


Scenes of Trust

by stickdonkeys



Series: Trust and Betrayal [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Decisions, Bad vows all around, Damaged!Thorin leading blatant favoritism between his nephews, Dis has her own issues as well, Dis tries to keep order and fails., Durin Family, Everyone sees what Thorin's doing and lets it continue, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, She makes bad choices too, Thorin has mental health issues, Thorin's A+ Parenting, Young Fíli, Young Kíli, no good options but choosing the wrong one anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 85,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickdonkeys/pseuds/stickdonkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the events of Trust Me But Don't Thank Me Yet Fili, Kili and Thorin were a happy close-knit family living in the Blue Mountains. This story is a look into their lives before the events and trials of the quest came between them. Will contain cute dwarflings and family fluff with an undercurrent of angst that will eventually catch up to and lead into TMBDTMY. Can stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are all. . . I know that I should NOT be starting something new but *shrugs* it happens. The plot bunny hits and who am I do deny it? Besides, so many of you asked to see more of the Durin family (sans incest) from me so I decided to give you what you asked for. This is the backstory for Trust Me but Don’t Thank Me Yet. It CAN stand alone and for many of you it will, I’ll bet. There will be LESS angst here than in the other, but there will still be some. I’m still me, after all. I hope that you enjoy it!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no claim to.

Thorin sighed as he sat in the small kitchen that he shared with his sister and tried to ignore Dís’ agonized cries as she brought the youngest of their line into the world. He hated it. While he knew that what she gained from it would be worth it in her mind he could not stand to hear his sister in pain and sit there helplessly. But even were he to bust down the door it was not as if he could do anything to aid her. He placed his head in his hands and prayed that it would at least be a short labor.

“Uncle?” a small voice asked and he flinched away from the small hand on his arm. Instead he lifted his head and looked into the crystalline blue eyes of his tiny nephew.

“Is . . . is Mama going to go away like Papa did?” Fíli asked with tears in his eyes. “Is she going to leave us and not come back no more?” Thorin’s heart broke for the little lad. He hadn’t realized that his nephew would draw parallels between his father’s death and his brother’s birth. But he supposed that it would make sense. The boy had been sequestered in this same room while Óin fought to save his life in the very room that Dís’ cries were coming from now.

“No, lad,” Thorin whispered as he gathered his small nephew into his lap. “She isn’t going anywhere. She’s bringing someone else to us. Your mother is bringing your brother into the world.”

“A brother?” Fíli asked with wide eyes.

“Most likely,” Thorin said with a smile. “I suppose that it could be a sister but is will most likely be a brother.”

“Then why is she . . . “ he couldn’t seem to find the words to describe what his mother was doing but a pained scream from Dís filled the space and made it unnecessary.

“That is the way these things are,” Thorin replied. “It was the same with you. And she survived that.”

“It’s where I come from?” Fíli asked in the innocent way of a child.

“Yes, lad,” Thorin replied sadly as the memories came back to him. “It’s where you came from.”

_He had sat in the same kitchen with Gíli—Dís’ late-husband—while Dís labored to bring his son into the world. It had been a nerve-wracking evening but eventually Dís’ screams subsided and they heard intead the wailing of a child. Only moments later, a midwife emerged carrying a squirming bundle of blankets that she set into Gíli’s waiting arms._

_Thorin watched as the blonde dwarf’s green eyes widened and his face lit with wonder at the sight of the small dwarfling in his arms. “Thorin,” he had breathed, “you have to see him. He’s beautiful. Dís . . . she did a wonderful job.” Gíli had taken a step towards him and bent to allow his seated brother-in-law to gaze into the bundle. Thorin felt his heart sink. The sleeping babe had a full head of golden hair . . . the same color as Frerin’s had been._

_With a hand that shook he reached out and gently touched the downy hair. “He’s blonde,” Thorin breathed._

_“Amazing, isn’t it?” Gíli beamed, unable to see Thorin’s pain through his own elation. “I never thought that he would be blonde, not with you and Dís having such dark hair. I hoped for light brown at the most but . . . he’s blonde!”_

_“My . . . my brother was a blonde,” Thorin managed to say. “Nearly the same shade. I wonder what color his eyes will be.” He looked at his brother-in-law and felt a sudden vehement desire that the boy would take after his father when it came to his eyes. He wasn’t sure that he could endure it if the boy had Frerin and Dís’ eyes._

_Almost as if the lad had heard his question, his eyes opened and though their gaze was unfocused, Thorin was both shocked and pleased to see crystalline blue eyes staring out from his tiny red face._

_“Blue!” Gíli had crowed. “His eyes will be blue.”_

_“It is not guaranteed,” Thorin said with a smile. He had forgotten that Gíli was the youngest of his siblings and had never been around children this small before. “Dís’ eyes were blue when she was born. They slowly darkened as she grew older. We won’t know if they will remain blue for a few months.”_

_“I hope they do,” Gíli said smiling down at his newborn son. “They truly are quite striking.” Thorin said nothing as Gíli turned and walked into the room his wife was in but he could only hope the same. The lad’s eyes **had** to remain blue. His sanity demanded it._

He was pulled out of his memories by a sharp tug on one of his braids. He looked down in shock to see Fíli was still in his lap. The blue eyes he had looked into five years ago staring into his own as the boy wiped a tear from Thorin’s cheek that he hadn’t realized was there.

“Uncle,” Fíli mumbled holding up the tear for him to see.

“It’s nothing, Fíli,” Thorin replied looking away. Before the boy could argue there was a high-pitched wail from the other room, a cry too high-pitched to have been made by Dís, followed by the more standard cries of a babe.

“Come,” Thorin said shifting Fíli to the floor, “You have a brother to meet.” While they would not go into the birthing room until they were invited, Thorin and Fíli moved into the hallway that led to Dís’ room to wait for the midwife to bring out the newest member of their family. She soon emerged, a bundle of blankets in her arms. It was the same woman that had delivered Fíli and Thorin held his breath as he took the child from her.

“A boy,” she said with a smile. “Another strong lad for the line of Durin, my King.” Thorin nodded to her as he gently uncovered the child’s head. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was met with a head of chestnut hair the same shade as Dís’.

“What is his name?” Thorin asked. “I am sure that Dís had one chosen.”

“Kíli,” the midwife replied. “She named him Kíli.”

“May we . . . “

“It might be best to let her rest,” the midwife said slowly. “I am sorry, my King. I just fear that you _and_ the lad . . .”

“Do not worry,” Thorin assured her. “I will just introduce Kíli to his brother and you can take him back to his mother.” She nodded and Thorin knelt to allow his five-year-old nephew to peer into the bundle in his arms. Fíli looked at the baby and then up at Thorin.

“He doesn’t look like me,” Fíli said simply. “He’s all . . . red.”

Thorin had to laugh. That was nearly what he had said about his own brother. “He is,” The king agreed. “But that will fade. He may never look like you, however. You took more after your father”— _and my brother_ , Thorin though—“and from the looks of it, Kíli will take after your mother. He may have your eyes. Our eyes.”

“I hope so,” Fíli said with a small frown. “If he’s mine I want people to be able to know it.”

“They’ll know it, lad,” Thorin replied with a smile. “It won’t matter if you match. They’ll know. Would you like to hold him?” Fíli nodded and Thorin gently placed the baby into his nephew’s arms, keeping his own hands on Fíli’s small arms to aid him in supporting the weight and insure that he would not drop his brother. As soon as Fíli touched him, Kíli’s eyes flew open. They were a deep blue and Thorin knew at that moment that they would darken to brown before he was grown. He only hoped that Fíli would not be too disappointed.

Seconds after they had opened, Kíli’s eyes closed once more and his face screwed up. Thorin flinched knowing what was coming before it happened. Suddenly Kíli’s piercing wail filled the air and Fíli rapidly pulled his arms free to cover his ears.

“He’s loud!” Fíli complained as Thorin handed Kíli back to the midwife to be returned to Dís.

“Aye,” Thorin agreed. “And he will only get louder. You’d best get used to it, lad.” He didn’t miss the way his nephew’s lips twisted in thought as he watched the midwife leave with his brother. Though Thorin didn’t ask, he wondered what it was that Fíli was thinking. He only hoped that his nephew would not be overly jealous of his baby brother.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin needn’t have worried. While Fíli was a bit jealous in the first few days when it seemed that the entirety of Ered Luin filed through their little home to get a glimpse of Thorin’s second heir, it soon faded. All of their visitors took time to speak kind words to Fíli, or to ruffle his hair or to tell of their memories of the births of their own siblings. Fíli was soon beaming under the praise and sitting on the bed next to his mother and Kíli and petting his baby brother gently. It was then that Thorin knew that they would be fine.

It was a certainty that was only solidified when Kíli began to grow and focus on things. His favorite thing in the world to look at was Fíli’s golden hair. While he would look at the bits of sliver holding his mother’s braids or Thorin’s, it was Fíli’s hair that he reached for. When Kíli began to totter around, it was not his mother’s skirts that he clung to, but rather his brother’s arm. If Fíli went somewhere, Kíli was behind him, first on legs that wobbled and then on more steady feet.

By the time Kíli was a year old, Thorin knew that he had been correct: Kíli had Dís’ eyes. It saddened him to see how little of Gíli was in his youngest nephew. He knew that it hurt Dís, but he couldn’t help but be thankful. Seeing Kíli was like looking into a window to the past and seeing Dís at that age. Just as watching Fíli was like seeing Frerin as a child again. He hadn’t realized just how much they looked alike until Fíli began to grow. As a baby, the similarities could be overlooked. All babies looked similar up to a point … but the larger he grew, the more Thorin saw it. And while Fíli still looked at him with love and devotion, he knew how quickly that could change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are all, first chapter of this one. I’m not sure what kind of update schedule it will have. . . I will try to keep up with it :) Is it worth the effort to add to? So, what did you think? I would love to hear it (even if you hated it!)


	2. First Words and Trees

Despite Thorin’s fears, even as Fíli grew he never looked at his uncle with anything less than love. Even so, Thorin knew that it was a possibility that he one day would. Frerin had always looked at him with love when they were children. Watching his nephews together was both a blessing and a curse. It made him smile to see them so happy, so carefree. It had been a difficult thing to accomplish, but he was truly proud of the home that he had managed to make for them in Ered Luin that had enabled them to grow up so slowly.

He, Dís and Frerin . . . they had been denied that opportunity. The sacking of Erebor . . . it had forced them to grow up too quickly. Thorin had only been twenty-three, Frerin eighteen and Dís . . . she was only nine. There hadn’t been much time for childhood after the fall. Food had been too short, the road too dangerous, the memories of death and smoke and terror too fresh. They had all grown up too quickly. He vowed that he would not allow that to happen to his nephews. They would be children as long as possible.

The day that Kíli greeted him at the door without Fíli, like all things involving the boys, made him both proud and made his heart hurt. They were growing so quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that the lad had been handed to him as a squirming bundle of blankets. Thorin smiled tiredly down at the little dark-haired dwarfling.

“Hello Kíli,” He said kneeling down to scoop his nephew up into his arms as he headed towards the kitchen from where he could smell Dís’ cooking wafting through the home. “What have you been up to today? Causing mischief and giving your mother grey hair?”

“I do _not_ have grey hair, Thorin,” Dís snapped from the kitchen.

“Then what is this, then?” He asked with a laugh as he pulled gently on one of her loose hairs. She turned her head, panic in her eyes and looked at the hair that he held. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was a dark hair. She glared at him but couldn’t stay mad at her brother when there was such joy in his eyes. At one time she had despaired of _ever_ seeing Thorin smile. She knew that her boys had more to do with it than she did but she couldn’t help but be pleased at her hand in it.

“Oh you!” she huffed, swatting his hand and pretending to be indignant at his joke. “Why do you do these things to me, Thorin?” He shrugged as was about to tell her that he was only doing it to keep her from becoming too vain when he was interrupted.

“Torn,” a high, childish voice chirped from his arms. They both looked at Kíli in surprise. He smiled up at them, his brown eyes sparking with his pride at being able to get his beloved uncle’s attention. “Torn,” he repeated.

“Is that . . .” Thorin began hesitantly. “Is he . . . was that _my_ name?” He couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face at the thought that one of Kíli’s first words had been his name. He looked at his sister and she smiled at him.

Dís was pleased with the shock on her brother’s face. It was an expression that she had never seen before, for a good reason anyway. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that Kíli had been babbling all day and had already called both her and Fíli by a mangled version of their names. It didn’t matter if they were slightly mangled. Ma was close enough to Amad and Fee was close enough to Fíli that they knew who he had been speaking too.

“I believe it was,” Dís replied with a warm smile for her youngest. “Was it, my darling Kíli? Were you trying to get your grouchy old Uncle Thorin’s attention?” Kíli nodded before grabbing one of Thorin’s braids and giving it a tug.

“Torn! Torn!” he called happily, a bright laugh bubbling up his lips. Thorin’s deep laugh soon joined it and he lightly tossed Kíli into the air, causing a loud squeal of laughter to come from the small child before he was caught and brought back against Thorin into a hug.

“You have my attention, little one,” Thorin promised, nuzzling Kíli’s soft hair. “As long as you still want it.” He led Kíli tightly a moment longer before he loosed his hold and moved his nephew back to his hip.

“So,” he asked, turning to his attention to his sister once more only to glance back at Kíli with a wry smile when the incorrigible little lad called “Torn!” once more, “where’s Fíli? These two are usually like little shadows of one another. Why do I just have one of them clinging to me now?” He regretted his question because as soon as he asked it Dís’ smile fell away.

“Fíli’s in their room,” she replied, a hint of anger in her eyes. Thorin didn’t understand it. Fíli was Dís’ favorite. He rarely did anything to anger her, his resemblance to her late husband buying him more leeway than she gave any other.

“What did he do?” he asked warily. If it was enough to upset Dís to the point that she confined him to his quarters . . . it had to be bad.

“Which time?” Dís asked with a sigh. “He had been . . . today was bad. I nearly lost my temper with him, Thorin. I wasn’t actually mad at him,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she relived what had happened that day. “I . . . he . . . he fell. I was just _so_ terrified. And I . . . I yelled at him. He was hurt and scared and I . . . I _yelled_ at him. I . . . I don’t know what came over me. I just . . . I heard him scream and then . . . when I got outside . . . there he was, under the tree just _sprawled_ there and instead of scooping him into my arms I yelled at him. All I could see . . . all I could _think_ was what would have happened if he had only climbed a little higher before he fell . . . I was just so _terrified_. I can’t lose him, Thorin. I can’t lose either of them. My heart would not survive it. I—“

“Hush,” Thorin whispered pulling Dís to him and hugging her with the arm that was not around Kíli. “You won’t lose them, Dís. I swear it. They will not leave you before their time.” _Not like everyone else has_ , he thought bitterly. She sobbed into his shoulder at what had happened between her and her eldest son that day.

“Thorin,” she asked, pulling back at to look at him with tear-filled brown eyes and worrying her lip with her teeth, “what do I do? How do I . . . how do I explain to him why I was upset? How do I tell him that I only yelled at him because I love him _so_ much and that I can’t bear the _thought_ of losing him?”

“You tell him just that, Dís,” Thorin replied with a sad smile. “He’s a smart lad and he loves you. He will accept your apology.” _For now,_ he finished mentally. “But if you’d like, I can go and talk to him first.”

“I’d like that,” Dís replied taking Kíli from his uncle before turning back to the stove. “I just need to warm up dinner. See if you can get him to come to the table. He told me that he was never coming out of his room again.” Thorin nodded and moved towards the boys’ room with a deep sigh. He only hoped that he was up to the task that Dís had given him.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli was sitting on his bed glaring at the wall. He couldn’t believe his mother. It wasn’t as if he had _meant_ to fall out of the tree. He hadn’t _meant_ to fall out and hurt himself. As the thought washed through his mind tears prickled his eyes at the memory of his mother standing above him a yelling. He had never heard her yell before . . . and for the first time he heard it to be at him . . . it hurt.

She hadn’t even looked at him to see if he was hurt. She hadn’t even asked why he had climbed it in the first place. She hadn’t cared. She had just been so angry. As he stormed off, he even thought that he saw tears in her eyes but he knew that that couldn’t be true. Real dwarves did not cry. His mother, his uncle they were real dwarves. She hadn’t been crying. With that vicious thought, he reached up to wipe away his tears, wincing as the fresh scrapes on the palms of his hands from where the bark had scraped him as he fell protested the movement.

HE jumped slightly as he heard a quiet knock on the door. There was only a moment’s delay before the door opened and his uncle poked his head inside.

“Hello Fíli,” Thorin said quietly. He sighed when his nephew didn’t respond other than to look up at him with sad blue eyes. “May I come in?” Fíli sighed and looked away, which Thorin took as an invitation. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and move over to sit next to Fíli on his bed.

“So,” Thorin said trying to figure out how to broach the subject with his nephew. “I hear that you had a bit of a . . . an adventure with the tree in the yard today.” Fíli said nothing but he gave a small sniffle. Not only had his mother yelled at him for falling out of the tree but he knew that she had sent his uncle in to scold him as well. A treacherous tear crept down his cheek at the thought. He couldn’t stand the idea that they would both be angry with him. Fíli flinched as he felt Thorin’s calloused finger gently wipe the tear away.

Thorin swallowed down his pain at Fíli’s flinch. Did the boy truly think that he would punish him for falling from a tree?

“Are you injured?” Thorin asked gently. Fíli looked up at him in shock, his blue eyes filling with tears once more. His heart fell as Fíli’s face crumpled and he nodded. “Let me see, lad,” Thorin ordered gently. Fíli swallowed before he held up his hands and showed his uncle his bloodied palms. Thorin took his nephew’s small hands in his own and leaned down to inspect the scrapes. They didn’t appear too deep.

“Stay here,” Thorin whispered standing and going to the dresser and pouring some water from the pitcher there onto a cloth before coming back to Fíli’s side. “This may hurt a bit, Fíli,” Thorin cautioned. “However I must clean these scrapes.” Fíli flinched as the cloth was gently passed over the wounds, but he did not cry out or pull away. It only took a moment to wipe away the blood. And Thorin breathed a sigh of relief: they were only shallow and would do no lasting damage.

“Will you tell me why you were in the tree?” Fíli looked up at his uncle’s question, hope and love burning in his eyes. “It is a very strange place for a young dwarf to be. Dwarves don’t climb trees, lad.” The admonition was gentle but he saw some of the hope dim in Fíli’s eyes before he looked away. It broke Thorin’s heart to have lost even that little bit of hope from Fíli.

“I . . . I climbed the tree because . . . ” Fíli began hesitantly. He wanted to tell his uncle why he had done it but he didn’t want to at the same time. He was worried that Kíli would be in trouble for it as well if he was to tell what had happened. But his uncle was looking down at him, his blue eyes soft and expectant and Fíli couldn’t _not_ tell him. He couldn’t let his uncle believe that he had done something undwarfly without cause.

“Kíli’s ball,” Fíli explained looking away, “it was in the tree. I climbed up to get it down and when I reached for it . . . my hand slipped and . . .”

“And you fell,” Thorin finished with a sigh. It made much more sense to him now. Fíli was a smart lad and Thorin hadn’t been able to understand what had possessed him to climb that tree. Fíli nodded. “Are these your only injuries or . . .”

“My back hurts,” Fíli replied, his eyebrows drawing together. He looked at his uncle sadly as Thorin nodded.

“Let me take a look at it,” Thorin sighed and helped Fíli to remove his shirt. There was a bruise where his upper back had hit the ground, but there was no blood and nothing was broken. “It’s not that bad,” Thorin offered. “I’ll get some salve from the kitchen and . . . it’ll help.” He stood to go through with his promise but was stopped by Fíli’s quiet voice.

“Uncle?” Fíli said warily, not sure if he wanted the answer to the question that he intended to answer. He nearly lost his nerve when his uncle turned back to look at him. The gentleness in his eyes was almost painful when he compared it to the anger that had been in his mother’s.

“Is mother . . . does she . . . does she hate me? Because I climbed the tree?” Fíli asked, his eyes filling with tears once more. Thorin shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked back to his nephew before scooping the child into his arms and leaning against the wall. Fíli’s small hands grasped desperately at his shirt and his eyes looked up at Thorin with such hope that Thorin felt his heart stop. He knew that he wasn’t deserving of such pure hope. Instead of looking into his nephew’s eyes, he pulled Fíli’s head gently against his chest and pressed a kiss to his blonde hair.

“No,” Thorin breathed against Fíli’s hair. “She doesn’t hate you. She could _never_ hate you.”

“She was so angry with me,” Fíli sobbed, burrowing more firmly into his uncle’s chest. “She . . . she _yelled_ at me, Uncle. She’s never done that before. And she . . . “ He couldn’t bring himself to explain the look in his mother’s eyes to his uncle. It was too painful.

“She yelled at you because she was terrified _for_ you,” Thorin explained. “She . . . you and Kíli, you’re all that she has left in this world. She . . . she only yelled because she was afraid that she had almost lost you.” Fíli was very still for a moment and Thorin moved him away slightly so that he could see his nephew’s face. If it hadn’t been such a serious situation he would have laughed at the intense look of concentration that was on his young face.

“You’re wrong,” Fíli said suddenly. “I’m sorry, Uncle, but you are wrong.”

“I don’t believe so, lad,” Thorin replied with a small smile. “Your mother loves you and your brother more than anything in this world.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Fíli argued resting his head back on Thorin’s shoulder and tangling his fingers in his uncle’s hair. “I mean that we’re not all she has. She has you too. Right?” Again, Thorin felt a warm smile cross his face. He only wished that he could see things as innocently as Fíli was capable of. Things seemed so much simpler through his eyes.

“That’s right, lad,” Thorin agreed. “She has me too. You and Kíli do too, you know.”

“I know, Uncle,” Fíli replied with a contented sigh. “I love you, Uncle.”

“I . . . I love you too, Fíli,” Thorin replied. Swallowing back his emotions Thorin pulled Fíli into a tighter hug before releasing his hold. “So, are you hungry? Your mother told me that you have been in here since you fell from the tree.” He smiled as Fíli’s stomach growled in response. “Come, lad, let’s see what your mother cooked. Do you want to walk or . . .”

“Can . . . can you,” Fíli began before cutting himself off. “I can walk, Uncle. I’ll walk.”

“What if I carry you to the kitchen and then let you walk the rest of the way?” Thorin countered knowing that Fíli had wanted him to carry him but refused to ask. Fíli nodded and Thorin stood up with his nephew still cradled against his chest. He wasn’t sure how much longer Fíli would allow this closeness but he was determined to have it as long as he could. It was with mingled regret and pride that he set the boy down and allowed him to walk into the kitchen with his head held high. 


	3. Cruel Rumors and Painful Memories

As it always will, time passed and the boys continued to grow. Both of them had grown, but it was more marked in the youngest. Kíli had shot up like a little weed, his chubby little limbs stretching and thinning until he was nearly as tall as his brother despite the five years between them. He was tall for his age but he was far too thin for a dwarf. His continued thinness was not through lack of effort on his mother’s part to change it. She made sure that there was always food for her sons to eat if they were hungry. If that meant that both she and Thorin had to take on extra jobs . . . so be it. She remembered the gnawing pain of true hunger was determined that her sons would never feel it. Thorin was united with her in this goal. The boys would want for nothing if it was in his ability to provide it for them.

Their diligence showed in Fíli. He had the rosy glow and hearty bulk of a well-fed dwarfling. Any that looked on him knew that he was well cared for. But Kíli . . . It seemed that the more that Dís fed him the lankier he grew, the nutrition translating to length rather than bulk. It was hopeless. Thorin knew that eventually Kíli would have to stop growing taller and would begin to flesh out, but as he watched his nephews playing together on the hearth rug he could only hope that day came soon, for Kíli’s sake if nothing else. He knew that children were cruel and Kíli was such a sweet thing that he knew their teasing would hurt him deeply. He had heard no one say anything about his youngest nephew’s thin frame but he knew that they would never dare torment the lad under his nose. He could only hope that their family name would protect his nephews when he could not.

**ooOO88OOoo**

One day, the day he had feared came to pass. Thorin was at home, taking a well-deserved day of rest from the forge. They had just filled a large order. It had truly been more than he should have taken on, but the pay was generous enough that he had been unable to turn it down. The forges had all been lit and dwarves had worked them day and night for two weeks to complete the task but it was done and would ensure that none went hungry that winter.

Usually, on the rare occasions that it happened that he was at home during the day, Dís left the boys with him when she went to the market, but that day she had taken pity on him and had taken them with her. Thorin couldn’t help but be grateful. He loved his nephews but he was weary from his toils and . . . it seemed that all those two lads _had_ was energy. He still argued that if whatever powered those two dwarflings could be bottled somehow it could power a forge for a month without coal. And what’s worse was that they had finally gotten old enough to begin plotting mischief together. No, it was better that they had gone with Dís.

He smiled indulgently as he wondered how his sister was fairing at the marked with _both_ of her little terrors. He let out a small laugh as he heard the front door open followed by the sound of the high laughter of happy children. It was almost as if his thoughts had summoned them to him.

“Do you think that Uncle is awake yet?” Kíli chirped loudly from the hallway.

“If he’s not you’re going to wake him. You’re being too loud, Kíli,” Fíli said, his voice little quieter than his brother’s despite his critiquing of Kíli’s volume.  Thorin stood to make his way towards his nephews with a small smile in place.

“Then let’s just go wake him!” Kíli replied. Even though Thorin couldn’t see it he knew that there would be an adorable pout on Kíli’s face. He could hear it in his voice.

“You know we can’t,” Fíli argued frustrated that his brother wanted to wake their uncle when they had been expressly ordered not to do so. “Mother told us to let him sleep. He’s been working hard, remember.”

“But I miss him, Fee,” Kíli whined. “We haven’t gotten to see him in _forever_!”

“Now surely it hasn’t been that long, has it?” Thorin asked with a laugh. Kíli turned, his face splitting into a wide grin at the sight of his uncle leaning against the door frame with mirth in his eyes, before launching himself at Thorin. Seeing the lad coming, Thorin knelt so that it would be easier for Kíli to embrace him before standing with the dwarfling’s arms around his neck.

“Uncle!” Kíli cried happily as he was scooped up and placed on his Uncle’s hip so that Thorin could better support him. He laid his head on Thorin’s shoulder and let out a noise that was almost a contented purr. “I’ve missed you!” He said looking up at his uncle with sad brown eyes that made Thorin regret his absence even if it was a necessary one.

“I’ve missed you, too, little one,” Thorin replied with a smile as he stroked Kíli’s bangs from his eyes with the arm that wasn’t around the dwarfling before turning his attention to his eldest nephew. “I’ve missed you as well, Fíli. Do I not get a hug?” Fíli just looked up at him from the other end of the entry with shame in his eyes.

“What’s the matter, lad?” Thorin asked his brow furrowing at Fíli’s standoffishness. The blonde’s behavior confused him. Surely the boy’s feelings were not so hurt that he had been absent that Fíli refused to come near him. He had had no choice but to work. Surely Fíli understood that, he was older than Kíli, after all.

“We woke you,” Fíli whispered morosely, looking away in shame from the exhaustion that he knew would be in his uncle’s eyes. He knew that their uncle had been working long hours and needed his rest—his mother had said as much—and they had just woken him with their noise. “We were too loud and we woke you. I’m sorry, Uncle. I was supposed to keep Kíli quiet. I can take him to our room and you can go back to sleep.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Thorin replied with a small smile now that he better understood his nephew’s mood. Fíli was only afraid that he had failed at a task. For some reason that Thorin could not understand Fíli was _always_ worried that he had failed in some way. It made no sense to him. Fíli was a very bright lad and rarely failed. And even if he had failed to keep Kíli quiet . . .  he was only a dwarfling himself. He could not be expected to control his brother. Thorin found it admirable that he was even able to control himself. He knew grown dwarves that were not able of _that_.

“I was already awake, Fíli,” Thorin promised holding his hand out to his young heir.  “I was before you left with your mother for the market.”

“Really?” Fíli asked, his smile brightening at the reassurance that he had not disobeyed his mother or failed in a task that had been set for him. He had not failed his uncle!  

“Would I lie to you?” Thorin asked in return, his smile widening as Fíli shook his head with a shocked expression on his face that his uncle would even think that Fíli believed he was capable of lying to him, before trotting towards him and flinging himself against his uncle to be drawn into the one-armed hug that Thorin had knelt to offer him. When Fíli finally had his fill and pulled away, Thorin stood once more and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately before asking: “Speaking of Dís, where is your mother?”

“She told us to go play while she put up the groceries,” Kíli replied squirming in Thorin’s hold from his excitement at having been spared the arduous task of putting away the groceries and in an attempt to reclaim Thorin’s attention from his brother.  

“She told us to play _quietly_ ,” Fíli added with a glare at his brother. Even if their uncle _was_ awake it had been possible that he had not been and if that had been the case Kíli would have woken him and gotten them _both_ in trouble if their mother ever found out.

“ _Quietly_ , Kíli,” Fíli repeated. Thorin laughed at the effect Fíli’s glare had on Kíli—causing the younger dwarfling to stick his tongue out at his brother from the safety of his beloved uncle’s arms—before he glanced down at Fíli and felt his laughter die in his throat. Kíli’s antics had caused his brother’s features to twist in indignation and the look was so familiar to Thorin that it broke his heart. He had seen the same look on Frerin’s face countless times when he was a little more that Fíli’s age and then again the last time that he had seen him alive. To see Fíli wearing it at such a tender age . . . it felt as if that look was a spear through his heart. It was as if his own brother were standing there glaring at Kíli. It pained him, but even so, he found that he could not tear his eyes away from Fíli’s face.

“—Right, Uncle?” He heard Kíli ask as he felt a small hand pull on one of his braids to get his attention.

“Wh-what?” Thorin asked, looking between the two of them in confusion. When he glanced down at Fíli the dark expression was gone and in its place was his sweet little nephew looking up at him with wide blue eyes rather than the furious brown ones from his memories. It was better but even so he could not quite shake the vision that had just assaulted him, one of Fíli’s face twisted in such a way over more than just a petty squabble and dark words falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry, little one,” Thorin said, tamping down his own sadness and turning back to Kíli and forcing a smile into place. “I did not hear your question. What did you ask me?”

“I said that Fee is wrong,” Kíli repeated, a pout on his face both because Thorin had not been paying attention to him and because his brother was criticizing him for being too loud when Fíli was no quieter. It was not fair. _Besides_ , he reasoned. _It wasn’t like it mattered. Uncle was awake. There was no need to be quiet. Not anymore._

“What is Fíli wrong about?” Thorin asked trying to get the child to make sense. He knew that he was missing some critical piece of information and refused to take sides before he had received it. “Did your mother _not_ tell you to play quietly?” Kíli’s indignant huff revealed that he had been out of the conversation for longer than he had believed. Obviously there had been a shift in the conversation that he had not been privy to.

“That’s not what he’s talking about, Uncle,” Fíli replied quietly from his side trying to fill his Uncle in when it became clear that Kíli had no intention to do so. “He thinks that since you are awake Mother’s order is no longer valid. Thinks that we can just do as we will. I told him that we can’t.”

“But I don’t wanna play quietly!” Kíli said looking at Thorin with wide eyes that were pleading for Thorin to side with him. “There’s nothin’ fun to play that’s quiet!” Thorin chuckled at his nephew. The lad did have a point, few fun games were quite ones. In fact, there were few fun things in general that were quiet. But Fíli’s argument was the more valid in this case. Just because it was less fun did not mean that they were allowed to disregard their mother’s rules.

“But Mother _said_ to play quietly, Kee!” Fíli retorted glaring at his brother once more as Kíli behaved petulantly. Yes, it was less fun but it was still more fun that being in trouble for defying their mother. Why couldn’t Kíli see that?

“Fíli,” Thorin said gently, “Aren’t you a bit old to be using that version of his name? It saves you no time, lad. Shouldn’t you switch back to using his given name?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fíli replied looking down in shame at behaving childishly in front of his uncle and being called out on it. “I won’t use it anymore.” Thorin nodded and ruffled his hair gently before placing a finger under his chin and gently tipping his face up to look into his eyes.

“You were making a point, lad,” Thorin reminded him. At the words Fíli smiled gratefully at Thorin for the encouragement to continue his argument with his brother before turning back to Kíli.

“That’s what she said, Kíli,” Fíli added. “Her order didn’t include the words ‘because your Uncle is asleep.’ All she said was ‘play quietly.’ It may be less fun, but isn’t that better than being in trouble? Do _you_ want to disobey Mother? ‘Cause I know that I don’t.”

“No,” Kíli mumbled. He didn’t want to disobey his mother but he was upset that she had made the order she had. It was no fun. Even if he did see that Fíli was right and that less fun was better than no fun. And no matter how little fun they could have quietly it was better than being in trouble with their mother.

 Fíli nodded triumphantly, his features twisted in a smirk. He had won this argument and was quite pleased with himself. The pride that he could see in his uncle’s eyes as he looked at him made his heart swell and he knew that he had done well even before Thorin said that he had.

“That was well reasoned, lad,” Thorin praised patting his shoulder. “I am glad to see that at least one of you realizes that your mother’s orders do stand unless they are countermanded.” He watched as Kíli bowed his head in defeat as he realized that their uncle was going to side with Fíli. His last chance at fun had been ruined.

“Which I am about to do,” Thorin added with a smirk as he set Kíli down next to his brother and planted a kiss on the top of both of their heads before nudging them gently towards the main room. “You too go play. Don’t worry about the noise. If your mother has a problem with it she can take it up with me, deal?”

“Thank you, Uncle!” they both chirped as they took off, racing each other down the hall with wild peals of childish laughter. Thorin smiled warmly after them before his smile fell and he went in search of his sister. He _knew_ Dís. If she had sent the boys to play rather than help her with the groceries she was either angry, upset, or both.

 He found her sitting on a crate in the pantry with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. He knelt in front of her before pulling her against him, her hands coming up to cling to the front of his shirt while she sobbed into his shoulder.

“Hush, Dís,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “It can’t be that bad, now can it? What happened?”

“Kíli . . . he . . .” she tried to tell him what had happened in the market but it only increased her tears. And soon she gave up and just sobbed.

“What about Kíli,” Thorin asked, his brows coming together in confusion as he tried to remember if there had been anything wrong with his youngest nephew. He didn’t remember seeing anything. “I just saw him, Dís. He’s fine. What has you so upset?”

“In the market,” Dís said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, she pulled back at him and her brown eyes were so filled with pain that it broke his heart. “The other children . . . Thorin . . . he laughed them off this time but . . .”

“They were teasing him,” Thorin said with a sigh. “About his height and thinness?” Dís nodded.

“And his lack of even the beginnings of a beard,” Dís added. “They said . . . they said that he could not be a true dwarf. That we must have adopted him or that I . . . that I . . .” Dís trailed off at the shame of what the children had implied that she had done. She had known that rumors would fly with her giving birth to a child so far after her husband’s death but she had never heard them before and for it to have come from _children_. For such sweet, innocent little things to say that she had . . . it broke her heart to hear it said in such a way.

“Oh, Dís,” Thorin sighed pulling her back against him and placing his chin on top of her head as she wept again. It hurt him to see his sister in such pain and again he cursed the cruelness of fate that had reduced her to this point. She had once been so strong, so proud, but the hurts of this life had taken their toll on her. He hoped that she would recover in time but he did understand why she was so upset by this. Not only had those children dishonored her late-husband’s memory by implying that she would lie with another but they had insulted her own honor _and_ her son. Her pride was triply hurt by their actions.

“They were only children, Dís,” Thorin whispered into her hair. “They know no better. They did not know how their words would hurt you, my sister. We know the truth of the matter. Do not let them upset you so. We know who Kíli’s father is and that he is a true son of Durin. Do not let their words bother you so, my dear little sister.”

“ _We_ know,” she agreed darkly. “But, Thorin, Kíli . . . what will he think of me once he understands what they mean? He . . . He never even got to meet his father and he looks nothing like Gíli and everyone knows it. Thorin, when he understands what they are _actually_ saying . . . Kíli . . . he’ll . . .”

“He will still love you, Dís,” Thorin cut in. “You are his mother, no rumors will change that.” Thorin let a sad laugh escape his lips. “He might even exact vengeance for your sake. He’s got fire in him, that one!” He heard a ghost of a laugh escape her lips and knew that this would soon pass.

“What of himself, Thorin?” Dís asked. “What will he think of himself if they continue to speak about him in such a way? What will he think when they stop being vague and begin to call him a . . . a _bastard_?”

“By the time that he is old enough to know what that word means he will know better than to believe it. Dís, you are worrying too much over this. He’s only six! He won’t remember this once he’s grown,” Thorin laughed. “He’s only a child!”

“I remember Erebor,” Dís replied pulling back to look him in the eye once more. “Not well, but I remember it. I remember the food and the music and the. . . the drops on the other side of the balconies that seemed to go down forever. I . . . I remember beautifully carved rock with veins of something that glittered. I can’t remember what color the glitter was only that I loved to watch the torchlight dance off of it. And I . . . I remember our mother . . .” she bit her lip as she tried to dredge up old memories and put a face back to the woman that had given birth to her. She couldn’t seem to accomplish it and her words were slow, stunted and hesitant as she hoped that she was right.

“I don’t remember much,” she admitted with a sad smile before her face became a mask of concentration once more. “I . . . I remember that she was . . . she was blonde. Like Fíli and Frerin and her eyes . . . they were . . . they were . . . her eyes were . . .”

“Brown, Dís,” Thorin said with a sad smile as he stroked a tear from her cheek. “Mother had brown eyes, just like you. I was the only one of us that has none of her features. I look just like Father did.”

“It’s alright,” Dís replied sadly. “You may not have gotten any of her features but are the only one alive who still remembers her well. I . . . I can’t even remember what she sounded like. But I _do_ remember that she always smelled of the forge. Just like you do.” With that she nuzzled against her brother for a moment before she stood and cleared her throat. She gave a sad, breathy laugh before dusting herself off and bending to pick up the groceries from where she had dropped them when she came in.

“They won’t put themselves up, will they?” she asked giving him a weak smile. She was a bit embarrassed by her outburst and for losing herself in her memories. She hoped that such a simple task as storing groceries away would allow her to overcome her melancholy.

“Dís,” Thorin said reaching for her. She dodged his hand with an agility that spoke of her years of weapons training and went back to putting things in their proper places.

“I’m fine, Thorin,” she said in a tone filled with forced cheer. “Go play with the boys. They’ve missed you. I can take care of this.” He knew that it was a lie but he did not challenge her on it. She had vented the worst of her insecurities and that even though she was not yet fine she _would_ be. With a nod he turned and left her to the groceries and her memories. His grim expression lasted until he made it to the doorway of the main room where it was replaced by a gentle smile at the sight that greeted him.

He had feared that he would be ambushed by dwarflings when he reached the door. Despite Kíli’s protests of quiet play being no fun there were no sounds emanating from the room and Thorin knew from experience that if the boys were being quite they were up to something. He was prepared for mischief but need not have been. They were not plotting mischief, they were sleeping.

Fíli and Kíli were tangled up together on the hearth rug, Kíli’s arms wrapped around his brother and his head pillowed on Fíli’s small shoulder. Fíli had his left arm around his brother and his right tangled in Kíli’s dark hair. _So much for playing loudly,_ Thorin thought before moving into the room and covering the boys with a blanket that was kept there just for this purpose. They often took impromptu naps on the hearth rug, especially in cold months where that was the warmest place in the house.

He gently ran a finger along Kíli’s smooth cheek. “Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered. “You will grow a beard yet. In time all the cruel words will cease. Just try not to take them to heart.” Kíli moaned softly in his sleep and Thorin stopped his petting so as to not wake the sleeping dwarfling. He turned to go back to his chair when he heard a quiet voice call him back. He turned, halfway expecting to see Kíli’s brown eyes looking at him so was shocked when he saw that it was Fíli that had woken.

“What is it, lad?” Thorin asked moving back to kneel beside them so that Fíli would not wake his brother by speaking too loudly.

“What they said today about Kíli . . . it’s not true is it?” Fíli asked quietly. “I mean . . . Mother would never have . . . He _is_ all dwarf, isn’t he? I mean . . . I know that he is too tall and skinny but . . . It’s not true, is it?” Thorin sighed and placed a hand on Fíli’s cheek, the beginnings of a downy beard just beginning to appear there.

“No, Fíli,” Thorin finally said. “It’s not true. Kíli . . . he is your brother. A true dwarf and an heir of Durin. They . . . they do not know what it is that they said, lad. They . . . they didn’t understand how much it would hurt you or your mother to hear.” Fíli nodded sadly. He had thought as much but had needed to hear it from his uncle. He knew that his uncle would never lie to him. But there was something else that bothered him. If they had not spoken the truth . . .

“Then why did they say it, Uncle?” Fíli asked quietly, his voice barely audible. “Why did they talk about things they don’t understand? Was it just to cause us pain?”

“I can’t answer that, Fíli,” Thorin said stroking through Fíli’s soft golden hair as he stared off into the distance, unable to look at Fíli while he introduced him to one of the first cruelties the world had revealed to him: the cruelty of words being turned into weapons. Thorin had hoped to protect Fíli from this for a while longer but the choice had been taken from him that day and the only comfort that he could offer the lad was an explanation.

“Sometimes people say things that they do not mean or that they do not mean to be taken as they came across and inadvertently cause pain,” Thorin explained, his hand still stroking Fíli’s hair absently as he searched for the appropriate words to explain something like this to a child. “But sometimes,” he had to swallow before he could continue as memories of his last, harsh, thoughtless words with his brother floated to the surface once more. “Well . . . sometimes . . . sometimes people say things with the _intention_ of causing another pain. Sometimes it is because they are hurting themselves and are trying to ease their own pain by hurting another—which I can promise you does not work, by the way—and sometimes . . . sometimes there is no reason other than cruelty.” Thorin had to pause again at the end as he wondered which of those reasons had led to his cross words with his brother. Had he been in pain himself or had he merely been seeking to cause his brother pain? With a deep sigh he pulled himself out of his memories and smiled sadly down at his nephew.

 “I cannot tell you which of those situations this was, Fíli,” he whispered.  “I was not there. But I doubt that those children had malicious intentions. I believe that it was ignorance, not cruelty, on their parts that led them to say such things about your brother.”

“Have you ever done that, Uncle?” Fíli asked looking up at him with innocent blue eyes. “Have you ever said something just to hurt someone?” Thorin sighed and he had to close his eyes against the pureness of the trust that he was about to shatter. For someone who looked so much like Frerin to look at him with such trust and ask about the most shameful thing that Thorin had ever done in his life . . . it nearly broke him.

“Aye,” Thorin replied in a choked voice. “That I have.”

“Who?” Fíli asked, his tone filled with curiosity as to who his Uncle would have tried to hurt just to hurt. Surely it had been an enemy or someone that had deserved it. His uncle would never have been cruel to someone without reason. They had to have done something to him first. They had to have hurt him somehow to merit such a reaction. When it was clear that his Uncle was not going to answer him, Fíli wondered if he had perhaps gotten lost in his memories once more and repeated himself.

“Who did you say something cruel _to,_ Uncle?” Rather than reply, Thorin bent and pressed a kiss to Fíli’s forehead before he stood. That was not a question that he could answer. Not to Fíli. Not to his innocent nephew. He could not bear to tell Fíli that he had lashed out at his own brother over a slight to his pride. He could not bear the idea of destroying the trust that Fíli had in him and knew that with as dear a Fíli held his own brother he could never understand what had led Thorin to lash out at his.

“Sleep, lad,” Thorin said instead. “Kíli will want a playmate when he wakes and if you do not sleep there is no way that you will be able to keep up with him. I will still be here when you wake.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fíli replied and made a show of closing his eyes. He waited until he heard his uncle sit before opening his eyes just enough to see and glancing toward Thorin’s chair where his uncle was seated with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his interlocked hands staring into the embers of the cooking fire as if it held all the secrets of the world. He stared at his uncle for a moment wondering what he was thinking before his eyes grew heavy and sleep claimed him once more.

 Thorin glanced at Fíli to make sure that he was truly sleeping once more before he let the memory that had been pressing on his mind all day to flow to the surface and he once more relived the conversation that he had shared with his brother in the war camp at the East Gates of Moria the night before the Battle of Azanulbizar. It was not a memory that he tried to dwell on but the events of the day had called it to mind and he knew from experience that this was one that he would have to allow to play out before he could push it away once more.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_Frerin and Thorin were sitting in their shared tent sharing stories and memories as they waited for sleep to take them. This was to be their first major battle and though neither of them were adults yet their father and grandfather had insisted that all dwarves that could fight should be present, regardless of if they had reached maturity. Numbers would be their only hope against the horrors that had taken over their ancient kingdom. Their nerves were running high and they knew that sleep would be difficult to find that evening._

_“Thorin?” Frerin had asked from where he was sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms around them. Thorin had glanced up from the axe he was sharpening and regarded his brother carefully._

_“Are you afraid of what might happen tomorrow?” Frerin asked in a small voice, his brown eyes filled with fear. “That you might die. That it might hurt?” Thorin had shrugged._

_“I haven’t really thought about it,” Thorin lied. In truth, he was terrified. All his life he had heard tales about the ferocity of Orcs and what they were capable of both in battle and outside it. He knew that if the battle went poorly that death was the most merciful option that he could hope for. He had heard tell of the atrocities that Orcs committed on prisoners, atrocities that left them as shells of their former selves. He hoped that if it came down to it he would die an honorable death rather than a slow one in the fortresses of the Orcs._

_“Liar,” Frerin snapped with a snort. “I can see it in your eyes, Thorin. You’re terrified. You can lie to everyone else but you can’t lie to me, Brother.”_

_“So what if I am?” Thorin snapped back, hurt that his brother would throw his fear in his face like that. What good would it do either of them to have it out there in the open? Just because he was afraid . . . what did it matter? He would still do as he needed to for the good of their people. His own fear was irrelevant._

_“We don’t have to fight, you know?” Frerin whispered, knowing that what he said could be seen as treason if overheard by the wrong ears. “The laws of our people are clear. We’re still children, Thorin. They can’t **force** us to fight. Not if we say no. There are so many children here, brother. It is wrong. We . . . we **shouldn’t** have to fight. I know that if you speak out against it then—“_

_“You would have me go against our father and grandfather?” Thorin snapped. “Frerin, I can’t do that, brother. I **can’t** go against them. Not now. Not when so many are already against this campaign in the first place. If their heir was to come out against it . . . no, I can’t do it, brother.”_

_“Did it ever occur to you that if so many are against it that we probably shouldn’t be doing it in the first place?” Frerin asked incredulously. “Thorin, I **love** our grandfather but . . . he is not thinking clearly, Thorin. This . . . this is foolishness. What will we actually gain from this?”_

_“We will regain what is rightfully ours!” Thorin snarled. “Where is your pride as an heir of Durin? Durin ruled here at one point. It only makes sense that we should retake it now that our home has been taken from us.”_

_“And what of Durin’s Bane, Thorin?” Frerin snapped. “What do we intend to do about **that** even assuming that we **do** win tomorrow? What is there in Khazad-dûm that is worth the lives that we will lose to claim it?”_

_“Mithril,” Thorin replied, his tone implying that he thought his brother was slow. “There is mithril there.”_

_“ **Was** ,” Frerin corrected, his tone suggesting that he thought the same of Thorin. “There **was** mithril there, Thorin. But even if it is still there, so what? The secrets of how to mine and forge it were lost. It is useless to us. We will just be throwing lives away for a useless bit of shiny metal. I love beautiful things as much as the next dwarf but this . . . Thorin, this is folly. You have to come out against it. For me.”_

_“It is not as simple as that, Frerin,” Thorin sighed. “I cannot do as you ask, Brother. You do not understand the burdens that come from being the next in line for the throne. I cannot just do as I wish whenever I wish. I have to think of the good of our people before my own fears.”_

_“The good of our people!” Frerin scoffed shooting to his feet and gesturing wildly. “Thorin, how is allowing **children** to be marched off to an unnecessary war with **orcs** for the good of our people!?”_

_“You couldn’t understand,” Thorin replied sadly, looking away from his brother. “There are more forces at play here that you know of, Brother. It is not as simple as you make it seem.”_

_“No, Thorin,” Frerin replied. “You’re the one that doesn’t understand. You are so absorbed in what you **should** do as their heir to see what you **should** do as the next leader of our people. If you do not come out against the battle . . . I thought that I knew you, Thorin, but if you can let this happen without saying a word against it I’m not sure that you are the person I thought that you were.”_

_“Do not lecture me on the difficulties of balancing duty to family with duty to the crown!” Thorin yelled rising to his own feet to glare down at his brother. Frerin’s words had wounded his pride and he spoke without taking the time to consider his words, his own stress and fear adding fuel to the fire until what left his mouth was the cruelest thing to have ever passed his lips, the words dropping in volume until they were little more than a venomous hiss._

_“ **You** are the one who clearly does not understand what he **should** be doing,” Thorin snarled into his brother’s face. “You should not be standing here attempting to sway me from the path that our father and grandfather have set out for us! They know what they’re doing, Frerin. As do I. Though if you don’t want to fight, remain here. Show them all that the second son of Thráin is a coward and unworthy of his place in the succession. Good luck taking over as our king if Grandfather, Father and I all fall in battle tomorrow. I cannot see our people follow a spoiled **princeling** who would not even raise an axe in the name of his kin.”  Frerin’s eyes had filled with tears at Thorin’s harsh words before they hardened and hatred took the place of pain in their brown depths. _

_"You think you're so much better than me because you are the first born," Frerin said, his face twisted into a mask of pain and fury. "But you're nothing but a **fool** , Thorin. I can't believe that I used to look up to you. I'm **ashamed** of you. I can't believe that we are actually brothers. Even if we do both survive tomorrow I want nothing more to do with you." When he had finished speaking, Frerin turned on his heel and stormed out of the tent, not even glancing over his shoulder as he walked into the darkness. Thorin ran to the flap of the tent, waiting for Frerin to turn and apologize for his words but it never came. As he began to lose sight of his brother in the gloom, he called after him._

_"I'm not sure that we are!" Thorin yelled at his brother's retreating form, his anger and pain at the words causing him to lash out. "No brother of mine could be such a **coward**! I'm glad that you are done with me because I **never** want to see you again!" Frerin had stopped but did not turn. After a brief pause he continued into the darkness, his pale hair the last thing to fade from Thorin’s sight._

**ooOO88OOoo**

That had been the last time that Thorin had seen his brother alive. Frerin hadn’t survived the battle. He had been dead when Thorin had found him. To this day, Thorin wondered what might have happened if he had taken Frerin’s advice that night and protested the battle. Or if he hadn’t lost his temper and driven his brother away. Would Frerin have survived if he and Thorin had been together on the field of battle? He felt a tear slide down his cheek at the fact that he had been responsible for his brother’s death. He allowed himself to feel the regret for a moment longer before he forced it down. It would do no good to dwell on the past. He may not be able to have a second chance to make things right with his brother but he could avoid making the same mistakes twice.

He glanced over at his sleeping nephews and swore to himself that no harm would ever come to them through any action of his own. He would not be responsible for another member of his family looking at him with hatred before dying for his mistakes. He knew that someday they would see battle but he vowed that they would have the best training that he could provide them. And Fíli . . . Thorin swore that he would teach him the lessons that he had never learned from his father or grandfather—the lessons that Frerin had known so well: that sometimes inaction was the best course of action.

Unbeknownst to him, he also made another promise that night: one that he would never see Fíli look at him the same way that he had seen Frerin look at him so long ago. Fíli would never hurt him the way that Frerin had. Fíli would never wound him as deeply as Frerin had despite the similarities between them. He unconsciously swore to do everything in his power to prevent it. That was when things began to change between them though Thorin would only realize it much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow . . . this one turned into a bit of beast, didn’t it? I would say that I hoped that you enjoyed it but . . . this one was a bit angsty so I’m not sure that enjoy is quite the right word . . . I hope that you appreciated it? . . . not quite right either . . . *shrugs* you know what I am trying to say :)


	4. Brief Slips and Vegetables

Despite Thorin’s knowledge that dwelling on the past accomplished nothing, he found that he was unable to shake himself from the memories that had be dredged up that day. He was still sitting in the same chair, staring into the dead fire when Dís came into the kitchen to begin preparations for dinner. She smiled at her sleeping sons and bent to place a gentle kiss on both of their foreheads before threading her fingers into their unbound hair and resting her forehead against both of theirs.

“No matter what the rest of the world says to you, never forget that I love you more than life itself, my precious sons,” she whispered before standing once more, not noticing the twin tears that had fallen from her eyes and landed on her sons’ cheeks. Once more, she forced down her pain. Thorin had been right. Her boys, while children, were true dwarves and heirs of Durin. They were resilient. Neither of them would take the taunting to heart, though it might enrage them as they aged. She was being a sentimental fool.

“Did you wear them out so quickly, Brother?” she called, her tone light as she attempted to forget her fears for her children in banter with her brother. “I need you to teach me your technique. Takes me _ages_ to get them to sleep.” Her smile fell when he did not even give any indication that he had heard her. Instead he continued to stare into the ashes of the fireplace with a pained expression and haunted eyes. Dís sighed as she approached him. She knew that Thorin has seen too much at much too young an age and that occasionally something would trigger a memory and drive him into a melancholy state. She felt regret wash through her as she realized that this time it had probably been she that triggered his painful memories when she had spoken of Erebor and their mother.

“Thorin?” she called softly, hoping to shake him free of the memories without startling him. He tended to react poorly when startled even when he wasn’t trapped in remembrance. The boys had yet to see him like this to her knowledge and she hoped that she could bring him back to them without waking Fíli and Kíli in the process. When he did not respond, she moved into his line of sight and knelt so that she could see his eyes before placing one hand on his knee and the other on the side of his face.

He jumped slightly when she touched him and his hand twitched as if going for the hilt of a sword that he was not wearing before he managed to focus on her face. Only then did the panic that had filled his eyes fade only to be replaced by infinite sadness.

“I left you again, didn’t I Dís?” he whispered pressing his cheek into her hand, seeking the comfort that she offered.

“You did,” she agreed. “What was it this time? Erebor again?” He shook his head sadly and looked away from the pity in her eyes. He knew that he was not worthy of it, not when he was the reason they no longer had Frerin.

“Azanulbizar,” he replied still unable to meet her eyes. He felt her flinch, though she tried to cover it up. He hated bringing it up. For their family that had been the single bloodiest day in their lives. True, the loss of Erebor had been devastating—as had the loss of their mother in the attack—but Azanulbizar had seen greater loss of younger lives and had seen the loss of two of their remaining kin. Two-fifths of their remaining line had died that day. Even if Dís did not bear the bloody memories of it that he did, she bore the pain of the loss they had suffered.

Dís sighed; now the haunted look in Thorin’s eyes made sense. Not only had he seen countless numbers of their people fall but he had witnessed their grandfather beheaded and had been unable to protect Frerin from the same fate. She wasn’t sure which of those memories was haunting him at the moment and she wondered what had managed to trigger memories of that bloody battle. Surely nothing that she had said could have done it. Had one of the boys said something?

“Oh, Thorin,” she sighed pulling him against her and offering him what little comfort she could, at first he was stiff in her arms but slowly he relaxed and allowed her to hold him as silent tears poured down his cheeks. “Why do you dwell on such painful memories, Brother? Why do your torture yourself so? There was nothing that you could have done differently. You were only a child, Thorin.”

“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that, Dís,” Thorin muttered his hold on her shoulders tightening to the point that it was nearly painful but she did not complain. She just listened. This was the only way that she had found to help him. If it required her to experience a bit of the pain that he felt, well that was a price that she was willing to pay to see him smile.

“As I said, you were a child, Thorin,” Dís replied firmly stroking his hair gently with one hand while holding him in place with the other. “A _scared_ child. You shouldn’t have but you did. You can’t change that by dwelling on it. I’m not sure that it would have changed things even if you hadn’t. Frerin was too young to be there, Thorin. He was only forty-eight. He wasn’t ready for a battle of that magnitude. Besides, you know as well as I do that Frerin was never much of a fighter. He never had your skill with weapons, or even mine. He had not business there, Thorin. It is through no fault of your own that he died. If you and he had been together on the field it is highly possible that you would have died trying to prevent his death and then he be killed anyway. None of us can know what might have happened, Thorin. No one. You cannot change the past and you shouldn’t seek to try. Is the present that we have truly so bad that you would risk it?”

“No,” Thorin said. “The present is not so bad. That is part of the cause for my guilt. We may not have much here, but Frerin would have loved what we do. And your boys . . . I deprived him of seeing your boys when I failed to protect him. When I _drove_ him away from me. When I said that I never wanted to see him again.” With a frustrated sound he tried to push her away from him. “Leave me, Dís. I do not deserve your comfort. I _murdered_ our brother. His blood is on my hands as surely as if I killed him myself.” Rather than follow his order, she clung to him all the more tightly.

“You did nothing of the sort, Thorin,” she whispered into his ear. “Frerin’s death was a tragic accident. A consequence of battle that was not your fault. I do not blame you for it. Stop blaming yourself. It is not healthy. I know that everyone believes it was the loss of Grandfather that drove Father mad but I know that is not the truth: it was the knowledge that he was the one that gave the order that ended his youngest son’s life. Do not let Father’s mistakes ruin your life as well, Thorin. Do not let grief consume you.” He said nothing in response but had gone limp in her arms once more. With a sigh she stood once more and gazed down at him sadly before asking, “May I ask what triggered it this time?” she made it sound like an idle question but it was anything but. She wanted to know what caused these trips so that she could do everything in her power to avoid them.

“Fíli,” Thorin replied sadly. “He asked me about what happened in the market today. About _why_ they did it. In the course of the answer he . . . he asked me if I had ever said anything just to cause another pain. He looks _so_ much like Frerin did at his age, Dís. It . . . I . . .”

“He’s not Frerin, Thorin,” Dís said harshly. She knew where her brother was going with this and would not allow him to superimpose Frerin over Fíli. They were two totally different people with totally different personalities. It would not be fair of Thorin to expect from Fíli what he had of their brother. Especially with the grief that Thorin still carried. Fíli deserved love from his family. Mahal knew that the world would not give it to him and she would be _damned_ if she allowed her brother to mistreat her son as he worked through his own issues.

“I know that, Dís,” Thorin replied quickly, his tone placating. Even he knew better that to butt heads with his sister when she feared for her children’s well-being. A dwarf mother was a dangerous thing to contend with. “Fíli is . . . he’s such a sweet child, Dís. Frerin was _never_ that sweet. There are more differences than that and I _know_ that they are not the same person. You do have to admit that the similarities in their appearance are striking.”

“Actually I don’t,” she said with a wry smile. “I don’t remember what Frerin looked like at Fíli’s age. In case you have forgotten, there were nine years between us. I was only two when Frerin was Fíli’s age. Ask me again if they look similar in about ten years and I will be more than willing to compare and contrast them with you.”

Despite himself, Thorin laughed. It was a quiet and weak laugh but it was a laugh all the same. “I will hold you to that, Dís,” he said with a small smile. “Should we begin dinner? I don’t know about you, but I do not particularly wish to contend with hungry dwarflings fresh from a nap. They are quite ferocious.” She smiled at the memory of her sons ‘ferociously’ attacking her brother one evening a few months ago and him allowing them to win before directing Thorin towards the table.

“You get started on those vegetables—I know that you and the boys hate them but they are _good_ for them—and I’ll get this fire going,” Dís ordered in a no-nonsense voice that she seemed to have perfected since Fíli was born and Thorin had to smile as he wondered what the others would think about him taking orders from his _baby_ sister. Orders that led to him chopping vegetables no less! He shook his head indulgently at the idea as he began preparing the vegetables. None of them ever needed to know. To the rest of the world he may be a king but here . . . here he was simply Thorin: Brother and Uncle and that was also something that they had no need to know.

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time the boys awoke, all signs of the distress that their mother and uncle had gone through that day had been suppressed once more and they were teasing one another just as they always did. Dinner was just as light as it always was—even if there were dreaded vegetables on the plate. As always happened when Dís decided that she was going to serve vegetables, there was a bit of negotiation that had to take place before they were eaten. This time, Thorin got pulled into the middle of it—much to his displeasure.

He and Dís had long ago reached an understanding when it came to vegetables—which for some strange reason Dís actually _liked_ —and that was that she could put them on the table if she wished and that she could force the boys to eat them if she wanted but that Thorin _would not_ eat them. There was one stipulation to her agreement to his terms and that was that if at any time the boys attempted to use the fact that he did not eat them against her their agreement would be nullified and vegetables would find their way onto his plate and he _would_ eat them if she had to pry his jaw open and force them down his throat herself. That night, it happened for the first time.

Fíli was glaring at the vegetables on his plate and stabbing at them savagely with his fork before he stopped and his sharp eyes roamed around the table and fell on his uncle’s plate, completely devoid of the vegetation that marred his, Kíli’s and his mother’s plates. As he thought through it he realized that he had _never_ seen vegetables on his uncle’s plate.

“Mother?” he asked suddenly waiting patiently for her to look at him before he finished his question. “Why does Uncle have no vegetables on his plate?” He wondered at the smug glance that his mother shot his uncle but said nothing as he waited for her to respond.

Rather than answer she asked a question of her own. “Would you care to answer that question, Dear Brother?” she asked, her words dripping with amusement as she watched Thorin scramble to come up with an answer to the question that would not lead to him have vegetables put onto his plate. She couldn’t contain her smile at the panic that briefly flared in his eyes before he glared at her as if this were all her fault.

“Well, Fíli,” Thorin began slowly as he tried to think. He briefly considered lying and saying that he had already eaten his but the glare and slight shake of Dís’ head rapidly dissuaded him. As did the fact that he did not want to lie to his nephews. With lying out of the question he sighed, defeated and only hoped that the boys would take his answer as it came and not try to use it as a way to get out of eating their own. He had no intention of eating them willingly and knew that Dís _would_ go through with her threat to force-feed them to him if she thought that it would be for the good of her sons.

“I . . . there are no vegetables because . . . because they do not . . . because I . . . I do not like them,” he said finally. “I do not like them so I choose not to eat them.” He smiled as Fíli nodded in response and turned back to his own plate with his curiosity satisfied. He had just begun to relax as the fact that Fíli was not going to make an issue of it became apparent and sent his own smug glance at Dís. He had won this round. Then his victory was pulled from his grasp by another small voice.

“I don’t like them either,” Kíli said from his place across the table from his uncle. “I chose not to eat them too!”

“I am afraid that you do not have that right, my darling,” Dís said, her smug smile back in place. “ _You_ must eat them. You are far too thin as it is. You cannot refuse food.”

“Then why does Uncle get to?” Kíli pouted. “That’s not fair, Mother. Why does he get to choose what he wants to eat and I don’t?”

“Do you want to explain it to him, O Brother Mine?” Dís asked in a sickly sweet tone that Thorin hated because it was one that she only used to taunt him. Thorin sighed before he tried the only tactic that _might_ work and save him from his terrible fate.

“Kíli,” Thorin said firmly, “I am allowed to choose because I am grown. You are still a growing dwarfling . . . a _rapidly_ growing dwarfling. They are good for you so you must eat them. I no longer need them.”

“But they would be good for you too, right Uncle?” Kíli asked innocently, staring across the table at Thorin with wide brown eyes.  Thorin could see no way out of it. He knew that his next answer would seal his fate but he could give no other.

“Aye, little one,” Thorin agreed with a heavy sigh. “They would be good for me as well.”

“Then why won’t you eat them?” Kíli asked his eyes going impossibly wider. “Are they _poisoned_? Will they _kill_ us?” Dís burst out laughing at her son’s ludicrous suggestion.

“Darling, do you honestly think that I would poison you?” Dís asked with a fond smile on her face.

“Then why won’t he eat them?!” Kíli asked in shock. The idea that his mother would feed them all poison refusing to be dismissed. “If they are good for him and not poisoned why won’t he eat them? I won’t eat them if he won’t!”

“Darling,” Dís said standing and trying to soothe her now frantic child, “they are _not_ poisoned. You will be fine. Watch, your uncle will eat some of them and prove to you that they are not poisoned. Won’t you, Thorin?”

Thorin nearly flinched at the glare that she leveled at him over Kíli’s head: a glare that clearly said ‘this is _your_ fault. I _told_ you that this would happen.’ With a sigh he reached for the bowl of vegetables in the middle of the table and placed a hearty serving on his plate. With a grimace he picked up a piece of the vegetation—one that looked like a small tree—and popped it into his mouth chewing it determinately before he swallowed it. As soon as it was gone he picked up his tankard and washed the vile taste from his mouth with a large amount of mead.

“See,” he said encouragingly once he was done. “Not poisoned.” Kíli still looked unconvinced and Dís looked at him pointedly. So he picked up another of the trees and ate it as well. The taste was no better the second time. It took a third piece before Kíli cautiously picked up his fork and speared one of the little trees and eyed is suspiciously before putting it in his mouth and chewed it with a surly look on his small features.

“That’s good my little one,” Dís praised kissing the top of his head before returning to her seat. “Just like that.” Fíli had watched the entire thing in amusement, eating all of his vegetables while they were otherwise occupied. He did not share his uncle and Kíli’s distaste for them and—like his mother—almost found that he liked them, though he would never admit it to another soul as he had heard his uncle and mother arguing more than once and knew that _true_ dwarves did not like green food. Due to that, he pulled faces and protested as any good dwarf would while secretly savoring the taste of them on his tongue. He occasionally caught his mother looking at him oddly almost as if she could sense that his protests were half-hearted, but if she knew . . . well that was their little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I have a QUESTION for you: For the next two weeks I am going to be writing like a madwoman to try to get as much done on these stories as I can before school starts up the first week of June. After it does updates will become much more sporadic (it's an accelerated program that compresses 2 years of study into 9 months. What would be a normal semester is now crammed into 8 weeks and well . . . that's a lot to do and very little time to do it) Here's where the question comes in. Do you want me to post as I get it done and get a mass amount of uploads in the next two weeks and then potentially silence for a while or would you rather that I hold them and give out a chapter (or two) a week? I think I prefer the spread out method but will do it whichever way is the most popular on each of my stories. I do want happy readers after all ;D. So vote for you choice in the comments!


	5. Important Dwarves and Lessons

The next morning, Thorin offered to take the boys on an outing to give Dís a chance to have a moment to herself without two rambunctious dwarflings. The boys were beyond excited at the prospect of getting to leave the house with their uncle. Dís was more than happy to agree to it as well, but she had one stipulation: if they were to go out in public with their uncle they would have to be presentable. That meant clean clothes and braids.

Their excitement evaporated instantly. They didn’t want to waste valuable time that they could be playing with their uncle on sitting still and having their hair arranged. Kíli had taken to looking between his guardians with wide, pleading eyes but Fíli was scrambling to find an argument that might liberate them from that hardship. Finally he believed that he had found one.

“Mother?” Fíli asked quietly. “Why do we have to be braided to go out with Uncle but not with you? You didn’t make us wear braids to go to the market yesterday. Why is today different?” Dís sighed and tried to think of how to explain the difference to her eldest son. She had intended to keep their family position from them for as long as possible so as to allow them to be children and not princes. It was the same reason that she kept them in their home as much as possible. She wanted them to have the childhood that she had missed out on, not be ogled as the last heirs of a dying line.

“It is different because . . .” she looked to Thorin for help unable to find the words to explain. He merely shrugged. He disagreed with her decision to keep their heritage from the boys but he respected that they were her sons and therefore the decision was hers. She shot him a look at his lack of aid in her time of need before she sighed. She would have to tell them something.

“Your uncle is a very important dwarf,” she said finally. “He cannot be seen in public with two wild little dwarflings. What would the people think about him if they see him with his nephews running around in dirty clothes and wild hair?”

“Aren’t you important too?” Kíli asked looking at her in confusion. “How can he be important and you not?” He couldn’t understand it. To him they were the same. They both loved him and they were both equally important to him. Why were the different to others?

“That’s just the way it works, darling,” Dís replied just as Thorin cut in with, “Your mother is an important dwarf as well, little one, just important in a different way.”

“How is it different?” Fíli asked, curious as to what his uncle meant. If they were both important and were from the same family how could they be important in different ways? Dís shot Thorin an exasperated look that he had interfered and complicated the issue further.

“Your uncle is important because of our father and grandfather,” Dís explained. “It is not an importance that I or anyone else can share. It is just for him.” Thorin shot her an exasperated glance of his own that said ‘Just tell them Dís. It will make more sense that what you are doing.’ She ignored him and turned back to Fíli at the sound of his voice.

“What about you? Why are you important if that importance is just for Uncle?” Fíli pressed. “Why can you be seen with us as wild dwarflings but he can’t?” He was not trying to be difficult but just to understand what the difference was. Why were the rules different depending on which of them he was with?

“My importance to our people comes from the two of you, my sweet boys,” Dís replied. “I am important _because_ I am your mother. It does not matter in what state you are seen with me. My importance stems from the two of you.”

“Does that . . . does that mean that . . . are _we_ important?” Kíli asked quietly. “Is that . . . is that why people stare when we go out?” Dís was taken aback. She hadn’t realized that the boys realized that people stared at them. With a sigh she realized that she could keep the truth from them no longer.

“Come with me, boys. There’s something your uncle and I need to tell you,” she sighed as she led them to hearth rug and sat Fíli before her while Kíli climbed into Thorin’s lap and leaned against his uncle happily. She lifted the comb off the table where she had left it before they left for the market and started working through the tangles in his blonde hair as she sifted through her thoughts.

“Boys,” she began finally, her hands never stopping their work on her eldest son’s hair as she spoke, “what do you know of the history of our people. Not how we were created. Where did we _come_ from?”

“We came from Er-erebor,” Fíli said hesitantly. It was a word that he had only heard uttered in hushed reverent tones and he was not sure if it was a word that he was allowed to say or if he would be scolded for it. No one had ever said it directly to him. He had only heard it in snatches of conversation between his mother, uncle and older cousins.

“Yes,” Dís agreed as she began to meticulously part his golden hair with a sad smile on her face as she recalled doing the same for her dear Gíli and Frerin. Dís supposed that Thorin’s statement the day before made some sense. Fíli did have Frerin’s hair, even if he had Thorin and Thráin’s eyes.

“We came from Erebor,” Dís confirmed as she began to braid his hair. “It is where I and your uncles were born.”

“Why don’t we live there anymore?” Kíli asked quietly looking up at his uncle in confusion as Thorin wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back against his chest enjoying the comfort of his nephew's small warm body in his lap as Dís spoke of their painful history.

“When I was a child just older than Kíli,” Dís said sadly. “We lost our home and were forced to move.”

“How did we lose it?” Fíli asked glancing at his uncle since he couldn’t move his head to look at his mother. He was shocked at the coldness and distance in Thorin's gaze as he stared at nothing. He had never seen that look in his uncle's eyes before.

“We didn’t lose it,” Thorin cut in harshly his gaze shifting to Fíli and causing his nephew to flinch away from the pain there. “It was _stolen_ from us.”

“Who took it?” Kíli asked still staring up at Thorin uncowed despite his uncle's angry outburst. He saw no reason to fear his uncle, Thorin had never hurt him. Thorin exchanged a look with Dís, wondering just how much she wanted the boys to know, and she smiled sadly at him in permission. Even with her blessing he paused a moment before deciding that if Dís was going to tell them the truth they may as well know the _entire_ truth.

“Our home was taken from us because a dragon named Smaug coveted the wealth of my Grandfather and our people,” Thorin explained sadly. “I can still remember the sound of his flight and the heat of his flames. In addition to taking our home and gold, Smaug also took the life of your grandmother. Once he took the mountain, we were forced to wander homeless because none would aid us. In our quest for a new home, countless more lives were lost either to starvation, the elements or war. It was the final thing that most decimated our numbers. It was war that took my grandfather and brother from this world.”

“But, Uncle, what does that have to do wi—“ Fíli began only to be cut off in a sharp cry by a tug on the braid that his mother was working on.

“Hush, dear heart,” Dís whispered into his ear as she gently rubbed the spot that she thought had pulled with her freehand. “I am sorry if I hurt you but this is difficult enough for him to talk about this without interruptions. He’ll get there. Just give him time.” Fíli nodded and resisted the urge to rub his scalp where his mother had actually pulled his hair. He knew that she had truly meant nothing by it. She had not actually meant to hurt him. She would never do that.

“The loss of nearly half of our line drove my father mad,” Thorin continued as he unconsciously pulled Kíli even more firmly against him only losing his hold when the dwrafling gave a little squeak of discomfort. “I am sorry, little one,” Thorin whispered before turning back to Fíli to finish his explanation. “He . . . he disappeared many years ago. A year after he left, he was presumed dead. That was when I truly became an important dwarf.” He sighed and tried to decide the best way to say the next part before deciding that the truth was the best.

“When Smaug took Erebor it was not just gold or a home or lives that he robbed us of,” Thorin said sadly. “For the rest of the dwarves that was all—even though that is _more_ than enough to be robbed of. But for _us_ , for me, your mother and the rest of our family—including you boys—he robbed us of a kingdom. We had meant to wait to tell you this until you were older however the time has come.”

“You boys know that occasionally I have to leave for trips for months at a time,” Thorin said and waited for them to nod before he continued. “That is because I have to take part in negotiations to make sure that our people are cared for. I have to go and negotiate treaties and contracts to ensure that we are able to get the food we need and avoid war to the best of our abilities.”

“But why do _you_ have to do it, Uncle?” Fíli asked quietly hoping that his mother would not protest his questions this time.

“Because I am King,” Thorin replied simply. “Most of the people I deal with will negotiate with nothing less, though some are willing to treat with Balin. For some reason they find him _less_ confrontational,” Thorin finished with a laugh.

“What’s a king?” Kíli asked slowly, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he tried out the strange word. It was a word that he had never heard before and it confused him.

“That is a hard question, lad,” Thorin sighed. “A king is many things depending on what it is that his people need at any given time. Sometimes I am a warrior, sometimes a mediator, sometimes a judge others little more than a broker and sometimes I am noting more than a smith. But above all else, a king is a leader.”

“So that is why _you_ are special,” Fíli said nodding in understanding. “You are the leader of our people. There is one thing that I still do not understand. Why would Mother being our mother make her special? I understand now why she is special in a different way than you are but what do we do to make her important?”

“You are my heirs,” Thorin replied simply. “When I pass beyond this world _you_ will become King. And if, Mahal forbid, something should happen to you before you have a son of your own the title will pass to Kíli. Fíli, you are the next in line for the throne. _That_ is what makes you special and your mother special for having given birth to you.”

As Fíli tried to think of a response to his uncle’s words, he felt a gentle tap to his cheek. Instead of saying anything to his uncle he turned to look at his mother who looked at him appraisingly for a moment before she nodded her approval and made a small shooing motion with her hand.

“I’ve finished,” Dís said with a soft smile and gentle kiss on the forehead for her eldest. “Now trade places with your brother.”

“But Mother, I really don’t like braids,” Kíli whined clinging to the front of Thorin's shirt desperately. “Do you _really_ have to braid my hair?”

“Didn’t you hear your uncle?” Dís replied exasperated with the stubbornness of her youngest. “He’s a king and you’re a prince. You can’t be seen out with him with your hair flying free. Now come here!” Kíli said nothing as he wiggled off his uncle’s lap and moved towards his mother, but the droop in his shoulders reminded Thorin more of a man walking to his execution than a dwarfling preparing to have his hair braided. He had to laugh at Kíli’s dejectedness.

“Let the lad be, Dís,” Thorin said scooping Kíli back into his lap and ruffling his untidy hair affectionately. “He is fine just as he is. He’s only a small child after all. None can fault him for having slightly unruly hair. They do not need better clothing either. I am taking them for a playday not a parade.”

“He’s still a prince of Durin, Thorin,” Dís reminded her brother. “And one of your heirs. He should be presentable if he is to be seen with you in public.”

“A _small_ prince of Durin,” Thorin countered. “I seem to recall a young princess running around the halls of Erebor with loose tresses and torn skirts when she was Kíli’s age. Let him be a child a while longer, Dís. There will be time later for you to force him to sit still and let you braid his hair. There will be time later for him to be a prince of Durin, let him be Kíli for a while longer.”

“Does that mean that I can take these out?” Fíli asked hopefully his small hand already going for the tie that held one of the braids his mother had just put in. He didn’t like the braids. They pulled strangely on his scalp and where the ties hung down they tickled his face and neck. He wanted them out! His hopes of being free of them were dashed as the smile that Thorin had while looking at Kíli faded and became tight as he looked at Fíli.

The boy had the sudden desire to apologize even though he was unsure what he had done wrong. His uncle had never looked at him so dispassionately before. And then Thorin spoke and there was a distance in his tone that had never been there before. That more than anything else made him know that he had done something wrong, even if he didn’t know what it was. For some reason, his uncle was displeased with him. The thought of it broke his heart and made him feel cold. He had never managed to displease his uncle before, not like this. His uncle had never been cold towards him before. Angry, yes. Cold, never.

“No, lad,” Thorin said shaking his head. “Your mother already has yours in. It will take longer to take them out than to leave them in. And at any rate they become you. In fact, I believe that it is time that you began wearing them full time. Now that you are aware of your place in society you should behave in a manner becoming to it.”

“Thorin!” Dís breathed scandalized. “He’s still a child! You . . . you can’t . . . he’s little more than a babe!”

“He’s eleven, Dís,” Thorin replied with a sad smile. “He is old enough to begin taking on his role as my heir. He’s older than I was when my training began. I will speak with Balin about setting up lessons for him.” Dís felt her heart constrict in her chest. This had been why she had tried to put this off. She knew that once Fíli knew the truth that she would have little chance of stopping her brother from taking her son and making him his heir.

“And what of Kíli?” She demanded harshly. “You yourself just said that he is only a child. What do you intend to do about him? He can’t go to lessons yet and they’ve never been separated, Thorin. What will _he_ do while his brother is at lessons?”

“You . . . you want to separate us?” Kíli breathed desperately clutching at Thorin’s shirt as tears began to fill his brown eyes at the prospect. “Uncle? You . . . you won’t separate us, will you? You’re not going to take Fíli from me, are you? I . . . I _need_ Fee, Uncle. I . . . I . . . ” Thorin pulled Kíli’s head down to rest on his shoulder and stroked his wild hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“Hush, Kíli,” he whispered. “I will not separate you permanently. Only a short period of time each day or perhaps even every other day. You will still see him. Do not worry. I will never come between the two of you. I swear it.”

“They’re too young, Thorin,” Dís repeated fury in her voice. “You shouldn’t—“

“We will discuss this later, Dís,” Thorin cut her off with a pointed look at the boys—Kíli who was glancing between the two of them in shock and Fíli who was staring at the floor with a blank expression on his face. Dís felt remorse flood her veins for her boys. They had never seen their mother and uncle fight. Not truly. They had seen banter, mock arguments but nothing heated. Nothing like this. Dís looked at her boys and sighed. While she wanted to have it out with Thorin right then and there she knew that she could not make her boys witness that so rather than argue, she nodded curtly.

“We _will_ discuss this later, Thorin,” she promised darkly. He nodded before standing and shifting Kíli from his arms to his hip before taking Fíli’s hand in his own and leading the stunned dwarfling out of the house.


	6. Rambunctious Dwarflings and a Request

When Thorin had said an outing, he meant an _outing_. He had not simply meant that he was going to take them out of the house, he meant that he was going to take them out of Ered Luin. It took them some time to get through town, more so than it took when it was just Dís and the boys or Thorin by himself. None of their people had ever seen the King out of the house with the boys in tow with Dís nowhere to be seen.

Everyone wanted to offer them compliments, wish them well. Despite the increase in dwarflings since Thorin had settled them in Ered Luin, they were still a rare sight and to see their King walking among them with his tiny heirs . . . it warmed their hearts. Especially young Fíli. He was such a bright eyed child with such striking coloration. His golden hair rare enough on its own but when coupled with the strange blue eyes of the line of Durin . . . he was a gorgeous child. They had also never seen his hair braided before and had to admit that the traditional braids of the line of Durin became him. He looked every inch a prince as he stood beside their king, clinging to Thorin's cloak and looking up at the warily.

But even if Fíli drew their attention better, Kíli was not to be ignored in the admiration either. He was no less heartwarming. None of them could hold in their fond smiles at the way that the youngest heir clung to his uncle as the crowds pressed in on them and looked through the curtain of Thorin's hair with shy brown eyes. It was clear that there was love there as the king unconsciously soothed the overwhelmed child.

Thorin tried to wait patiently for the crowd to disperse on their own, but in the end it took Thorin's firm statement that he had promised the boys that they were going on an outing not that they were leaving the house to be gawked at to clear the crowds and allow them to pass through the market and continue their trip to the front gate.

"There were so many people," Kíli breathed once they were clear, still clinging to Thorin desperately. "They don't get that close when we come to market with Mother."

"They meant no harm, Kíli," Fíli said simply reaching up to pat his brother's back comfortingly. "They were just curious. Mother warned us this might happen, remember? Uncle is King, after all."

"It wasn't him they were staring at," Kíli argued. "It was us. I could tell."

"It was not, Kíli," the blonde argued. "You're being oversensitive. Isn't he, Uncle? That never happens when we go to market. If it was us they were staring at it would be a normal thing not just because are with you. Right, Uncle?"

"He's not being oversensitive," Thorin corrected. "It was because the two of you were with me that they reacted the way they did. I am not mobbed every time I leave the house. I would never get anything done if that were the case. However the three of us together . . . we are a peculiarity—the King and his two heirs without their Lady Mother—and that is what drew the crowd." Thorin sighed at the fact that the crowds had upset his nephews so but he had known that it was a possibility. He had told Dís that keeping the boys sequestered in the house as much as she did would be a mistake as they grew too large to do it. Their visits outside were too infrequent for the people to get their fill and allow them to be children rather than oddities. He would have to speak to Dís about taking the boys on more frequent outings. He had a small excursion coming up, perhaps they should come with him.

It was simply trade negotiations in Bree. Surely they would enjoy a  few days camping. The risk of danger was low, there had been no orc sightings for months. And it _would_ give Dís a bit longer of a break from their antics. He saw no problem with his plan. Fíli was old enough to begin to learn how to negotiate and Kíli . . . well Thorin could not in good conscience leave him with Dís after the promise he had just given the lad. With a sigh he realized that that particular excursion would have to wait.  He could not take Fíli from Kíli for such a long time and Kíli was not yet old enough to make such a trip. Dís would skin him alive for even suggesting that he take her boys with him to Bree. He shuddered slightly at the image his mind conjured of his sister wielding an axe.

"It's not that cold out, Thorin," Dwalin said with a laugh clapping his king on the shoulder that did not have Kíli clinging to it. "In fact it is a nice day. What brings you to the gate. I'd thought that you were planning to spend the next few days at home with Dís and the lads."

"I may not be at home but I am spending time with the lads," Thorin laughed nudging Fíli out from behind him and towards his cousin. "They and I are going out today. Giving Dís a bit of time to herself."

"And time free from the menace of young sons," Dwalin said ruffling Fíli's hair despite his braids. He was a bit too rough, not accustomed to being around children, and nearly knocked Fíli over. At the child's shocked cry Dwalin steadied him before he scooped him up and placed him on his hip just as Thorin had Kíli.

"So," he said to the dwarfling in his arms, "your mother thought you needed braids, eh?" When Fíli wrinkled his nose in displeasure at his newest adornment, Dwalin laughed and tugged gently on one of them. "Don't worry, lad. You'll get used to them and in time come to love them. They may save your life someday, Fíli. Hair in your eyes is a dangerous thing in battle. That's what I keep trying to tell your uncle. But he never listens to me."

"Is that why you have no hair, Mister Dwalin?" Kíli asked shyly. His eyes wide with the innocence of a child that does not realize he has asked an impolite question.

"Kíli!" Fíli hissed from his position in Dwalin's arms before looking up at the warrior with pleading blue eyes. "He didn't mean it, Mister Dwalin. Please don't be offended." But Fíli needn't have worried. Dwalin was not offended by Kíli's question, rather, he found it amusing. That child had spirit. Most of the other children in the village were at least a bit intimidated by him.

"Don't worry, laddie," Dwalin assured Fíli as he reached across to ruffle Kíli's untidy mop of hair, "I'm not so easily offended that a curious dwarfling can do it. And that's part of the reason, lad. The other is a bit more vain, I'm afraid. How else am I supposed to show off my tattoos?" Thorin snorted at Dwalin's lie. He knew that the other dwarf had gone bald through no choice of his own and had gotten the tattoos as a way of making up for his baldness, but if Dwalin wanted to lie to the lads. . . well, in truth Kíli should not have asked such a personal question.

"Anyway," Dwalin continued turning back to Thorin, "what brings you to the gate? I know you said that you and the boys are going out but did you mean _out_."

"I did," Thorin replied. "I think that a little time outside the walls would do them some good. It's been quiet lately and I am sure that I can protect two dwarflings. The most ferocious thing that has been reported lately was a _squirrel_." The boys exchanged excited looks. They were going outside? They'd never been outside before.

"Give me a moment to talk to Balin and I'll come with you," Dwalin said with a smile. "It's about time for another patrol and it will be far more interesting with you three than alone. You and I may even find time to slip in a bit of a spar. You wear that thing all the time but I do have to wonder if you still know how to use it or if the only thing that you know how to wield anymore is a hammer."

"I can still use a sword," Thorin replied testily. "If I didn't have the boys with me I would be more than happy to show you just how skilled I still am." In response, Dwalin snorted.

"Fine, Thorin," he said snidely, "use the lads as an excuse. We all know the truth about you, don't we lads?"

"What truth is that, Mister Dwalin?" Fíli asked in confusion. He knew many truths about his uncle and wasn't sure just which one Dwalin was referring to.

"Why that your uncle is unable to defeat me!" Dwalin replied with a laugh. "It is understandable, of course. He is getting up in years. How old are you now, Thorin?"

"My age is irrelevant," Thorin growled wondering why he had decided to take the boys out of the city at all. He should have known that Dwalin would take this as an invitation to tease him, knowing that he would be hampered in his ability to respond by the presence of his two young, impressionable nephews.

"And they are not an excuse, they are a responsibility," Thorin countered. "If I was to consent to spar with you who would watch the boys and make sure that they stay out of trouble while we're occupied, hm? Do _you_ want to be the one to tell Dís that her boys—the things that she prizes most in this world—were injured on your watch? I know that I don't."

Dwalin had to admit that he did not relish the idea of telling Dís that he had allowed her boys to be injured. Thorin's sister had a temper where her boys were concerned. His own mother had been the same way. All dwarf mothers were. And fathers for that matter. Even though Thorin spoke of responsibility to Dís, he knew that Dís' reaction was truly only secondary. Thorin would never forgive himself if something happened to the boys on his watch. Not after Frerin. Dwalin knew that Thorin still carried guilt for his younger brother's death and knew that if anything happened to the boys Thorin would never recover.

"Nor do I," Dwalin replied. "What if I convinced Balin to come with us and watch the boys?" Thorin sighed at his friend.

"That doesn't solve the problem, Dwalin," Thorin said. "I came here to spend time with the boys, not you. I can't leave them to play with Balin while you and I do as we will. That is not what I promised them. You are welcome to come with us but there will be no sparring." Dwalin nodded, not willing to fight with Thorin .

"I will still come," Dwalin replied setting Fíli back on the ground. "And I'll still convince Balin to come along. It's been too long since he got away from his desk and relaxed. The boys will be good for him."

"They will," Thorin agreed. "We'll go on ahead and you two can catch up with us. We're only going to the tree line." With that, Thorin placed Kíli next to his brother and moved to the smaller gate that was designed for the passage of dwarves rather than wagons and slid back the bolt before opening it and preparing to lead his nephews out of the city.

"I need the two of you to promise me something," Thorin said kneeling before them and taking one of each of their small hands in his own. "I need for both of you to agree to stay in sight of me or Dwalin at all times. You can't go wandering off. Agreed?" The boys shared a look knowing that their outing—and all future outings—was contingent on them agreeing to this arrangement.

"Yes, Uncle," they said in unison.

"Good lads," he said patting Kíli's cheek and Fíli's shoulder before standing and gesturing to the open door in blessing. With twin peals of laughter, the boys were out the gate and into the sunshine. He had no choice but to smile as they frolicked in grass that was nearly as tall as they were; the only thing giving their positions away Fíli's golden braids and Kíli's dark wild mop. When they finally reached the tree line, Thorin sat against a tree and watched as the boys played. It was a bit rough, as boys that are outside and out of sight of their mother are wont to play but there was no harm in it. Fíli was being careful with Kíli, cognizant of his large size and strength, and Thorin saw no harm in letting the boys play however they wished without Dís hovering over them. He was just allowing himself to relax when the sounds of footsteps alerted him to the approach of another.

Before he thought about it, he was on his feet between the boys and the new arrivals, sword in hand. He sighed as he saw Balin and Dwalin standing there with amused expressions on their faces.

"A bit tense, Thoirn?" Dwalin asked nudging the flat of Thorin's sword as he walked past and integrated himself in the game by scooping Kíli up from behind and dangling him upside down causing a startled squeal to come from the dwarfling.

"Help!" Kíli cried in mock fear. "Save me Fíli!" Thorin smirked as Dwalin then found himself assailed by a vicious little golden blur of dwarfling attempting to 'save' Kíli. He could have told Dwalin that would be the outcome of 'attacking' Kíli. Fíli was quite protective of his brother even when there was no real danger, as was Kíli with Fíli. Their mutual protectiveness would serve them well when they did eventually see battle. His face fell at that last thought and suddenly his nephews'' antics no longer held the same amusement they had moments before.

"They'll be alright, Thorin," Balin said looking up at his cousin with a smile. "They've got you. Dís. Even _Dwalin_ is enamored with them. They'll be alright."

"They might," Thorin agreed with a snort as he watched Dwalin trip and fall as he tried to avoid stepping on Fíli—only managing to roll himself in the air at the last moment so as not to squish Kíli and releasing the dwarfling in the process. At which point Dwalin then had to contend with twin blurs of dwarflings.

"They might be fine but what of your brother?" Thorin smirked as he watched the warrior cower from two dwarflings. He knew that Dwalin could easily escape but that he only restrained himself for fear of hurting the little ones attacking him.

"Thorin!" Dwalin said desperately as they began to tickle him, "call them off!" Thorin waited another moment before he ruined their fun. He was enjoying the sight of Dwalin being defeated too much to end it. He was still a bit agitated with his friend for his comments at the gate and it only seemed fair to Thorin to get his revenge vicariously through Fíli and Kíli as he was unable to take it himself. It was only when Dwalin called his name once more that Thorin sighed.

"Alright, lads, that's enough," Thorin said firmly. "He's had enough. You two play with one another for a bit and give poor old Dwalin a rest." Kíli and Fíli immediately left the warrior alone and turned their attention back on one another, Kíli launching himself at his brother and pulling them both down with his momentum only for Fíli to end up on top, pinning the smaller brother below him and tickling him causing Kíli to squeal.

"Are they always so . . . " Dwalin gestured at the two wrestling dwarflings to allow them to say what he was unable to put into words. Thorin snorted.

"This is _tame_ ," Thorin scoffed. Watching as Fíli freed his brother and allowed Kíli to try to attack him again. "Usually Fíli is worse than Kíli when it comes to energy levels. Those two . . . they could power a forge."

"Try the entire settlement," Balin said with an indulgent smile as Fíli took down his brother once more. "I don't ever recall having that much energy."

"We didn't," Thorin replied sadly. "Well, you and I might have but Dwalin never had that luxury. Uncertain times don't make for energetic dwarflings when dwarflings do happen. So much stress and uncertainty. That is no way for a child to grow up. Nor should any child ever have to go hungry.  Far too many  did when we were growing up."

"None of ours do now, Thorin," Balin replied gently. "You see to that. None of our children go hungry. Even if some of them _look_ like they do." That last was said with a pointed glance at Kíli, who currently had one spindly little leg in the air trying in vain to wrap it around his brother and roll Fíli off of him again.

"I swear that we feed him," Thorin sighed. "He . . . he just won't put on weight. He eats more than I do and he just . . ." he gestured at his nephew with a frustrated sigh. "He is just so _thin_ especially next to his brother. The people are going that think that Dís and I only feed Fíli."

"They'll think nothing of the sort!" Balin replied affronted. "They know better than that! They know you to be a good King and a good uncle besides. They know you wouldn't starve one of those lads! Besides, even if they didn't know you they know Dís. She would never allow it."

"Speaking of things that Dís won't allow," Thorin said changing the track of the conversation away from his skills as a king and uncle as the topic made him uncomfortable, "you and I need to discuss setting up lessons for Fíli."

"Lessons?" Balin asked in shock. "But the lad's only eleven, Thorin. Surely it's a bit young to start lessons."

"I disagree, Balin," Thorin said simply. "He's quite intelligent. Very mature. He is ready for lessons. I can warn you that he will be a bit of a handful. He thinks remarkably well for one his age. Reasons things through. Don't get into a debate with him like you would a normal child. He _will_ back you into a corner. Does it to Dís and me all the time. If he tries it, acknowledge that it was well reasoned but tell him that is not what you are going to do."

"Intelligent or not he's still a child, Thorin," Balin argued. "How old were you when Thráin began your lessons."

"Kíli's age," Thorin countered. "True, it was mostly to get me out of my mother's hair but I was still Kíli's age."

"So will Kíli be joining Fíli?" Balin asked. "Do I need to plan lessons for the both of them?"

"Of course not!" Thorin thundered. "Kíli's a child! He can delay lessons a while longer. Fíli has delayed them long enough. I will bring him to your office tomorrow." Balin sighed but said nothing. Thorin's tone had left no room for disagreement. Even if he disliked Thorin's decision, Thorin was both his King and Fíli's uncle. Balin could not challenge him in this. He only hoped that Dís could. Fíli was far too young to begin the long trek to adulthood.


	7. Trees and Baldness

They had been outside for the better part of the morning, the children playing while the adults talked when Fíli's startled cry shocked them out of their blissful mood. Thorin was on his feet in an instant, looking desperately for his nephews and cursing himself for allowing them to play in such tall grass when Fíli's voice came again, panic clear in the sound. His blood ran cold as he recognized a word in the cry: _Kíli_. Something had happened to Kíli. He ran towards the sound of Fíli's voice, fighting back panic as he heard Fíli cry out in pain and reorienting slightly.

He nearly sobbed in relief when he broke through the tall grass and saw Fíli standing uninjured at the tree line. He dropped to his knees beside his nephew—Balin and Dwalin standing over the pair as protectors while Thorin checked on his eldest nephew. As soon as he was certain that Fíli was truly uninjured, he grasped him by the upper arms gently.

"Fíli," Thorin said trying to keep his voice level despite the panic still roaring in his ears, "where is your brother, lad? Where's Kíli?"

"He . . . he . . . "Fíli shifted nervously attempting to look away from his uncle in shame. He couldn't answer that question. Kíli would only be in trouble if their uncle knew where he was. Fíli couldn't bring himself to get Kíli in trouble. He sighed in defeat as he felt his uncle grasp his chin and turn his face back towards him, gently but insistently.

"We don't have time for this, lad," Thorin whispered urgently. "Now, where is your brother?" Fíli opened his mouth to reply when his words were cut off with another cry of pain as he was pegged on the shoulder just above Thorin's hand with an acorn.

"Ow!" Fíli called twisting his head around to glare at his brother, not realizing that he was revealing Kíli's position in the process. "Don't throw things at me, Kíli! Mother said not to!"

"Mother said not to throw things at you in the _house_ ," Kíli retorted climbing a bit further out on his branch to throw another acorn at his brother, hitting him again.

"Kíli, why are you throwing things at your brother," Thorin said wearily. He couldn't believe that all of his stress was because of a dwarfling who decided to climb a tree and throw things at his brother. They were going to make him grey before his time if he didn't just die outright from the anguish they caused him.

 "We were playing war, Uncle," Kíli replied leaping to a different branch that held more acorns for him to throw at Fíli. "I couldn't win on the ground. He's bigger than me."

"So you climbed the tree?" Thorin asked looking up at his small nephew and wincing as Kíli leapt between branches like a squirrel.  While he had to admire Kíli's strategizing, he only hoped the boy didn't fall. Dís would murder him if Kíli fell and he would never forgive himself if they boy was injured because he was lax in watching him.

"Are you sure Kíli's a dwarf?" Dwalin asked Balin with a laugh as he watched the child scurry fearlessly from branch to branch. "Looks more like a squirrel to me!"

"Of course he is," Fíli replied viciously, glaring at the large warrior at the reminder of what he had heard in the market the day before. Kíli _was_ a dwarf, his uncle had told him so. "He just doesn't know that dwarves don't climb trees. But Uncle will explain it to him, right, Uncle?"

"Where's the harm of him climbing a tree?" Thorin said with a laugh. "He seems to be good at it. I will ask that you not," he winced as Kíli leapt once more and nearly fell only to grab a lower branch with a laugh and swing himself back up. "Kíli, please don't do _that_. There's no harm in you being in the tree but _please_ be careful."

"Yes, Uncle," Kíli replied with a small smile of apology before he began scurrying along branches rather than leaping between them. Thorin smiled and shook his head indulgently as Kíli's laughter rang through the air.

"But," Fíli said slowly, not wanting to criticize his uncle but trying to make sense of the difference in the rules for him and Kíli. At his brother's age his uncle had told him that dwarves didn't climb trees. "But, Uncle," Fíli tried again quietly, hesitantly, "You . . . you told me that dwarves don't climb trees. The time I fell. Kíli's a dwarf. Dwarves don't climb trees. So Kíli shouldn't climb trees. Not if he wants to be seen as a dwarf." Thorin merely eyed Fíli as if he had grown a second head. He couldn't understand why Kíli being in a tree would make him less of a dwarf. It wasn't as if Kíli could lose his claim to being a dwarf simply because he was in a tree. The idea was ludicrous.

"Aye, laddie," Balin agreed gently. "That is true enough. Most dwarves do not climb trees but most of us _can._ Even your uncle spent a bit of time in trees as a dwarfling. It was the only place that he could escape Thorin and Dís. They were never very good at climbing."

"What?" Fíli asked in confusion. His uncle . . . hiding from himself? "My uncle?"

"Yes," Balin said with a fond smile as he remembered happier times."Your uncle Frerin was quite a tree-climber in his youth."

"He was?" Fíli asked excitedly. He didn't know much about his mother's second brother but he did know that Frerin had been a true dwarf and had died valiantly defending kin and honor. If he climbed trees . . . perhaps there was hope for Kíli after all.

"Aye," Dwalin added. "I remember one time in particular, he had just irritated Thorin something fierce and in attempting to flee to Dís' protection had awoken her ire as well. Only place safe from them was at the very top of a tree. Thorin was too heavy to reach him and Dís . . . well she was never much of a climber. In the end, Thráin himself had to coax his youngest son from the tree by threatening to thrash Dís and Thorin if they so much as laid a finger on him. If I remember correctly, they didn't speak to him for _days_."

"What did he do again, Thorin?" Balin asked. "I can't for the life of me remember. All I recall is seeing his golden hair peeking out from the crown of the tree while you yelled insults and curses at him from below and he gloated at you from above."

"It doesn't matter," Thorin snapped, the memory of his brother hurting him more deeply than he could express. How much time had they lost together due to that childish argument and so many others. Time that he could never get back. "Come, little one," he called turning his attention on Kíli. "You've been off the ground long enough for one day. I'll bet that you're beginning to grow hungry." Almost as if Thorin mentioning hunger had summoned it, Kíli gripped his stomach with a grimace and nodded adamantly.

"Then come down from that tree so that we can return to your mother," Thorin said. "I'll wager she has something delicious made just for us."

"Will there be greens?" Kíli demanded. "I won't come down if there are greens."

"Of course there will be greens, Kíli," Fíli sighed in exasperation. "There are _always_ greens. Now get out of the tree! I'm hungry!"

"Hush, Fíli," Thorin said quickly. "You are not helping matters. Let me get him out of the tree." Fíli felt his expression fall even further. He still wasn't sure what he had done to upset his uncle but it was clear that he had done something. Usually such a statement would have come with a soft smile or a gentle pat but not this time. He tried to convince himself that it was only concern for his brother that made his uncle behave so coolly towards him but he knew the truth: he had done something. Something terrible.

He glanced up in hope as he felt a hand cup his cheek and opened his eyes expecting to see his uncle looking down at him with love and an apology but instead it was Balin's dark eyes that met his. It was his gentle smile that tried to reassure Fíli, not Thorin's.

"Don't worry overmuch, laddie," Balin whispered as he pulled his young cousin against his side. "Thorin'll get your brother out of that tree. Everything will be alright." Fíli just nodded and went back to staring at his uncle's profile as Thorin attempted to coax Kíli to the ground. He didn't have the heart to tell Balin that it was not Kíli's self-inflicted plight that had upset him. In fact, realizing that he was upset for having upset his uncle when his brother was in danger—he could still remember the pain of his fall from the tree and he had not been nearly as high as Kíli was now—made him feel incredibly selfish. 

"Kíli, please come down," Thorin said. "I am hungry. Your brother is hungry. You are hungry. You can't eat if you are in that tree, so climb down, lad."

"I won't if she's going to make me eat greens!" Kíli countered. "Promise me that Mother won't make me eat them and I will come down."

"Now, lad, that is a promise that you know I cannot make," Thorin replied with a  deep sigh. He hated that he could not give Kíli what he was asking for. He did not want to deny his youngest nephew anything. "There are some orders that even I cannot countermand. Your mother is the absolute authority where you boys are concerned. If she says that you have to eat greens, then I am afraid you are just going to have to eat them, little one."

"I don't want to!" Kíli argued. "They taste bad!"

"They do," Thorin agreed. "No dwarf likes them but they are still necessary occasionally. Even we cannot live on meat alone."

"I can try," Dwalin muttered grimacing at the fact that Dís made her sons eat greens. He held his hands up in surrender when Thorin turned to glare at him, his expression clearly stating 'you had best hope that _he_ did not hear you' before a smirk crossed his face and he turned back to Kíli with mischief in his eyes.

"Earlier today you asked Dwalin why he has no hair, do you remember?" Thorin called. Kíli nodded and Balin snorted in laughter that the dwarfling had called his brother out on his baldness. "Ask him about his eating habits. Ask him if he eats his greens."

"Do you?" Kíli asked moving down the trunk of the tree to sit on the one of the lowest branches of the tree. "Do you eat your greens Mister Dwalin?" He wondered why Dwalin glared at his uncle before he answered. Was that a rude question?

"I . . . I do not," Dwalin said, shooting Thorin a look that clearly displayed his displeasure at being used as a tool to convince the lad to do something so undwarvish as eat his greens. That was quite uncalled for.

"Do you see, little one," Thorin said, triumph clear in his tone. "Dwalin does not eat his greens and he is bald. It is possible that the two things are related. Is this a risk you are willing to take?" Kíli gave a little squeak of fright and began to rapidly make his way back to the ground. Kíli was only sure of one thing: he would eat his greens without argument. They thought that he was unaware of what people thought of him, but Kíli knew. He didn't know _what_ they thought exactly, but he did know that Mister Dwalin was not the first dwarf to express doubts on him being a dwarf. He also knew that dwarves were defined by their hair and if eating his greens would ensure that he had enough hair that none would doubt that he was a dwarf, he would eat them all.

He never made it to the ground. When he was little more than six feet in the air, he lost his grip and felt himself begin to fall. He heard the panic in Fíli's voice as he called his name and braced himself for the feeling of hitting the ground. It never came. Instead, he was caught in mid-air, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could catch his breath, he was pressed against his uncle's chest in a tight hug. He could feel his uncle's beard on his neck as Thorin held him close.

"Don't ever do that again," Thorin breathed, relishing in the feel of a solid, warm body in his grasp.

"Climb?" Kíli asked quietly, his brown eyes sad as he saw just how much he had scared his uncle just then.

"Fall," Thorin clarified. "If you wish to climb and you are good at it, there is no reason you should not. But if you _do_ climb, do so carefully. I cannot bear to lose you or your brother and. . . I may not always be here to catch you if you fall."

"Yes you will," Kíli replied with all the trust and innocence of a child as he snuggled sleepily into his uncle's chest. "You'll always be there when I need you. You won't let me fall."

"I wish that were true, little one," Thorin whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of Kíli's head and shifting him to a more comfortable position in his arms and gesturing with his head to encourage the others to return home. They had only gone a few steps before Fíli stumbled, the excitement of the day beginning to take its toll on the young heir. The second time this happened, Fíli's eyes flew open in shock as the sensation of moving through the air hit him only to stop with him pulled securely against Dwalin's chest as Kíli was pulled against their uncle's.

"I've got you, lad," Dwalin said with a small smile. "Sleep.  It's been a long day." Fíli wanted to protest that he was old enough to walk home on his own but when he opened his mouth all that emerged was a wide yawn. Dwalin chuckled and ran a large hand through the unbraided hair at the back of Fíli's head as the dwarfling's blue eyes drifted shut and his head began to lull. He shook his head sadly as he looked between his king and the sleeping dwarflings they both carried. Neither of them was ready for the responsibilities Thorin wanted to give them. Fíli was not even old enough to last through a day of play. There was no way that he was ready for lessons. But he could not challenge Thorin, not about this. He could only hope that Dís could convince him it was a bad idea or that Balin would plan light lessons. He would hate to see Fíli's smile disappear as all of theirs had, weighed down as they had been by war, famine and death. There would be time enough later for Fíli to learn of the evils of the world. 


	8. Dark Thoughts and Low Blows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, y'all, Dis is a bit . . . dark in this one. She's not immune to having issues and well . . . just a heads up :/

Dís was sitting at the table with her head in her hands wondering just what she had done in her life to make the gods punish her so. She thought that she had been a good daughter, a good sister, a good wife and a good mother. What could she have possibly done to so offend the gods that her sons had to be punished for it? The loss of her father, grandfather and brother . . . while she couldn't understand it, she could bear it. But the loss of her husband, her boys' father, had nearly destroyed her, especially over something so senseless as a mining accident.

He hadn't even had the honor of a swift death in combat. Instead he had died slowly, painfully in his own bed after being crushed due to the negligence or error of another. Or perhaps his own. She never did learn who was supposed to have shorn up that passageway. Not that it truly mattered. He was still dead regardless of who had been at fault. His death had left a hole in her heart that she felt every day as she watched her dear, sweet boys learn things from her brother that they _should_ have learned from their own father if the world was a fair one. But it wasn't. It never had been and it would never change. Dís had learned that lesson long ago. Hardship and loss were excellent teachers.

Even so, it was difficult to see her boys growing and to _know_ just how much Gíli would have enjoyed seeing the wonderful dwarves they were shaping into. They did not seem to miss him overmuch, if at all. Though she supposed that it made sense. Fíli had only been five and Kíli barely conceived when their father had died. It made sense that Thorin would be the only father they knew. And she could not truly fault her brother for stepping into the role. She could not even blame him if occasionally he seemed to forget that they were his nephews and not his sons. Not when he would never have children of his own. Even so, she couldn't stop the resentment that bubbled within her when her brother tried to make decisions for _her_ sons.

She always felt guilty for it later, as she did at the moment, when she remembered the way his shoulders had fallen when they had received news that Dwís, the dwarrowdam he had been intending to court, had decided to wed another. The look on his face as he was asked to preside over the ceremony . . . it was on that she would never forget. Unconsciously she stroked the ring that he had given her that day: the one that he had crafted with his own hand for Dwís. That had been forty-four years ago. Thorin had planned to propose to her on his eightieth birthday. It was one of the many things that they never spoke of.

No, most of the time she did not resent allowing her brother the little bit of happiness that her sons could provide him. It was less than he deserved after all that he had done for them. And she knew that she was being foolish in opposing him in this. Schooling would do Fíli no harm. She knew that Balin loved his little cousins and would pace things so that her son was not overly pressed by his lessons but that was beside the point. Fíli . . . he and Kíli were her _world_. She loved her brother but Thorin was already damaged. She could not protect him. But her boys . . . she knew that she could not do it forever but she wanted to shelter them for as long as she could from the cruelties the world was capable of. School . . . it was but the first step to adulthood, to kingship, that her son would take.

Not for the first time she wished that she was anyone besides who she was. That any blood but that of Durin the Deathless ran through her veins. She wished that she was nothing more than a simple dwarrowdam and that the most pressing choices her sons would ever have to make would be what metal to smith a trinket from, or what wood to carve from to create their children's cribs, not that they would one day have to swim the treacherous sea of politics for the good or ill of all. She had watched Thorin struggle under the weight of the crown for years and did not want that for her sweet Fíli or, Mahal forbid, her wild little Kíli. She knew that she was being foolish and could no more change their fates than she could bring back her dear Gíli.

Though if she could, she would. She would give everything she had to ensure them a beautiful future and though it would pain her, she _would_ fight Thorin on this. He would not put pressure on her dear children before it was absolutely necessary. Once more she wished that her dear Gíli was there with her. Even if he had agreed with her brother—which she knew that he would have—she knew that it would have been easier for her to bear with him there beside her. Swallowing around the lump in her throat that his memory brought up she rested her head on her folded arms and tried to convince herself that she was doing right by her sons.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Dís was not aware that she had fallen asleep until she was awakened abruptly by the sound of her door opening and booted feet on the stone floor. Too many feet walking too heavily to be her brother and her sons. As silently as she was able, Dís crept towards the fireplace and the axe that hung over the mantle there. She had a small knife at her waist, she always did, but she could hear three distinct treads and knew that her small knife would never be enough.

She let out a hiss and silently cursed as the axe rasped against the holder as she removed it and prayed to Mahal that the intruders hadn't heard. She was as ferocious as any other in battle but knew that if the intruders were all male she would be at a disadvantage. Not to say that she would not stand a chance, but the element of surprise would be her best ally. Especially if it was Men that were invading her home, as it almost _had_ to be. No dwarf would invade the home of her brother, their king, if only out of fear of his ferocious reputation in battle. _But Thorin's not here, is he?_ her mind whispered. _He was seen leaving the settlement with your children. They know that you're alone._ She shook her head sharply to clear that thought from her mind and set herself up against the wall beside the door that led to the main hallway.

As she heard the footsteps near, she took a deep breath to ground herself and then leapt out of hiding, axe raised and prepared to deliver an attack only to stop with a huff as she recognized the dwarves in her hall.

"Balin," she breathed before letting out a breathless, mirthless laugh. "What . . . Why . . . Thorin's not here. He left with the boys this morning."

"Dís?" She heard her brother ask and looked up to see Thorin eyeing her with amusement. "Why do you have that axe?" His amusement enraged her and she shouldered past Balin, the axe still in her hands, its wicked edge gleaming deadly.

"You think this is amusing, do you?!" she demanded, holding the axe in front of her, her brown eyes flashing with a rage that took Dwalin and Balin by surprise, though Thorin seemed unaffected by it. "You think it's _funny_ to nearly scare me to death?! Because that's what you did, Thorin."

"You were napping, weren't you Dís?" Thorin replied unconsciously shifting Kíli so that his mother could see that to kill her brother might harm her little one.

"What if I was?" Dís demanded, her voice a bit quieter, though no less livid, at the sight of her sleeping child. "I think that I am entitled to a nap occasionally, Thorin! Especially one that doesn't end in me fearing for my life! _Every_ time I try to take a nap you . . ." she trailed off as she realized that Thorin was quivering with laughter instead of fear, as he _should_ have been. She let the axe fall to her side and her shoulders slumped in defeat as she realized that she was being foolish.

"I hate you," she whispered but there was no heat in the words and Thorin smiled gently at her as he placed a kiss on her brow.

"I love you too, Sister," he whispered, shifting Kíli to one arm so that he could wrap the other around her. "And I am sorry that I frightened you." She rested her head on his shoulder before she sighed.

"Don't do that to me again," she threatened. "Or next time I _will_ use the axe. I swear it!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Thorin replied before stepping away from her. Dís jumped as she felt a hand land on her wrist and turned to see Balin standing there with a sheepish expression on his face.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he said quietly. "I . . . well, I was going to put the axe back over the mantle before you decided that you want to use it on your brother, lass. As irritating as he is, we do need him. At least until young Fíli is grown. Once that happens, I won't stand between you if you want to exact vengeance on Thorin for everything he has ever done to you."

"Do you hear that, Brother?" Dís laughed, allowing Balin to take the axe. "You may only have another sixty-nine years to live. If _Balin_ won't defend you from me . . . none of your subjects will."

"Don't speak such nonsense," Thorin replied curtly, though his smirk revealed that he was not truly upset. "You cannot kill me. Now stand aside. I'd like to put this little one to bed for a moment. That'll give us time to prepare to feed them without them under our feet for once. What with your nap, the food I promised them you would have is likely non-existent." Dís scoffed at her brother but stood aside all the same, her sharp eyes scanning the hallway and missing the sight of her golden-haired eldest.

"Where's Fíli?" she demanded.

"Don't worry, Dís," Dwalin replied moving out from behind Thorin so that she could see her son curled up in his arms. "I've got him." She smiled at her cousin and nodded to him in thanks. She knew that Thorin loved Fíli but she also knew that her brother had recently begun to overestimate her son's abilities. Thorin seemed to forget that Fíli was still a child. Sighing, she stepped aside and allowed Dwalin to follow her brother into the boys' room. 

"Are you and Dwalin going to stay for dinner?" Dís asked looking at Balin with a slightly forced smile. She had missed her cousins but she hadn't planned for so many. There was food enough, but it would be a bit tight on the meat. She knew that Dwalin and Balin would not have any interest whatsoever in the greens .

"No, lass," Balin replied with a sigh of his own. "We have shirked our duties for longer than we should have already to spend the day with Thorin and the boys. Your brother's treaties don't write themselves after all and it is for the good of us all that I don't make our allies try to decipher Thorin's hand more than they already have to. There is that negotiation with Bree next month and I need to get back to drawing up the starting terms for it."

"I understand," Dís replied in a light tone with a smile on her face. "Thorin's nearly useless without us, isn't he?"

"Now, Dís, you know I can't agree with you," Balin replied with a smirk. "Much as I might sometimes like to. Especially when he springs the necessity of lesson plans on me on top of the treaties and agreements he already has me drafting."

"Lesson plans?" Dís asked, her brown eyes narrowing dangerously. Balin suddenly found himself very glad that he had taken the axe from her; she looked nearly murderous.

"Aye," he said slowly. "For Fíli. Thorin asked me to plan lessons for tomorrow, as if I didn't have enough to do what with that treaty." The last was said in a voice that was little more than a whisper and Dís half-imagined that she hadn't heard it at all.

"He did, did he?" She said in a flat tone that was all the more dangerous for its lack of emotion.

"He did," Balin replied hoping that she wasn't going to loose her temper on him. He was only just now realizing that he had been dragged into a fight between Thorin and his sister over her sons. It was a place he had no desire to be; only a fool _wanted_ to be between a dwarrowdam and her children.

"And did my brother happen to mention if I had approved of these lessons?" Dís demanded in the same flat tone. But no matter how she modulated her voice, she couldn't mask the raw furry burning in her brown eyes at the realization that Thorin had had no intention of giving her a vote in this. He had intended to do as he pleased and her desires be damned. The small part of her that had been admitting that he was actually right to send her eldest to lessons was savagely murdered within her by the larger part that was wanting to _hurt_ her brother for daring to make decisions for _her_ sons without bothering to even consider what she wanted for them. They might be his heirs but they were _her_ sons.

"He . . . he didn't," Balin replied just barely fighting the urge to back down the hall rather than face Dís in her fury. "But I can see that he should have. I doubted that you were in agreement on the matter but I was unsure." Dís scoffed in response.

"I do not agree," she said eventually, locking eyes with her brother over Balin's head. "And Thorin is well aware of my position on the matter of the education of _my_ son." Thorin flinched internally at both the ice in her words and the heat in her glare and wondered how two such conflicting states could exist within one person.

"We can discuss this later, Dís," Thorin told her. "The boys are asleep but I don't know how long they'll remain that way. We need to feed them when they wake, Sister."

"There is no reason that we cannot both discuss this _and_ prepare food for _my_ children, Thorin," Dís said, her words dripping with mock sweetness. "I believe that you and I have put off this conversation long enough already, Brother." Thorin was silent, returning Dís' glare with one of his own that she would be so cruel as to pull _that_ card as if he wasn't aware every moment of every day that Fíli and Kíli were her sons and not his own. It hurt that she would cite that in the middle of this argument.

"Well," Balin said clearing his throat uncomfortably at the fury wafting off the siblings, "thank you for letting us spend time with the you and the boys today, Thorin. I think that I'd best be getting back to that treaty now. Dís, always a pleasure," Balin paused to dip his head to her and began edging for the door, push Dwalin forward in front of him. He was almost out when he heard Dís call his name and felt his shoulders droop in disappointment. He'd almost made it.

"Yes, Dís?" he asked turning reluctantly to face the enraged female. "What can I do for you?"

"You can let me have my axe back," she replied with the ghost of a smile. Balin glanced down in shock, only just realizing that he still held her axe in his hand. He only hesitated for a moment before he handed it to her.

"Lass," he whispered before he relinquished his hold entirely, "you do know that I was not serious when I said that you could kill your brother, yes?"

"He'll still be alive when I'm done with him," she promised. "That's all I can guarantee you, but you will still have your king come dawn." Balin nodded in reply and allowed her to take the axe.

"Good luck," he whispered as he closed the door behind him. As he walked away with Dwalin he could only hope that Dís would be victorious. Fíli truly was too young, even if Thorin didn't think so. But if Thorin won . . . well, he was the King. Balin would do as he was asked. After all, it never really hurt to learn something. He would just make sure that something would be easy until he felt that Fíli was old enough to be burdened with more difficult subjects. He may not be able to defy Thorin, but he could always modulate the order to better fit Fíli's tender age.

**ooOO88OOoo**

No sooner had the door closed behind Balin than Dís rounded on her brother. Her breath came heavy as she attempted to control her rage at what Thorin had done that day. Remembering her promise to Balin, and her own lack of true desire to attack him, she leaned the axe against the wall before she began advancing on him.

"I cannot _believe_ you did that, Thorin," she snarled. "What happened to "we'll talk about this later, Dís,"? _That_ didn't seem like you wanted to talk about it later. Asking Balin to plan lessons! That sounds like you will do whatever you like and my views on the matter don't count for anything!"

"Dís," Thorin tried to say making small shushing motions with his hands. "The boys, they're sleeping, Dís."

"That's right, Thorin," Dís snapped. "They're sleeping! You had them outside for little more than half a day and they're _sleeping._ _Fíli_ is sleeping. The same little dwarfling that you want to confine to a classroom tomorrow for an indeterminate amount of time is _sleeping_ after half a day playing with his brother. Durin's _beard_ , Thorin! What are you thinking!?"

"He's not as frail as you seem to think, Dís," Thorin countered. "Yes, he's sleeping but their play was rather rambunctious. Schooling will hardly tire him out as much. It is much less stressful."

"Physically!" Dís retorted. "Thorin, he's not going. He's too young and I won't allow it. I don't care if you are king, as far as my sons are concerned I am god and a god trumps a king. You will not do this, Brother."

"I was younger," Thorin countered not liking that she would remind him yet again that they were her children and not his anymore than he had the first time that she had done it that evening. "I was Kíli's age when Father set me to lessons the first time."

"Father did _many_ questionable things when it came to what he should allow children to do, in case you have forgotten," Dís replied coldly despite the anger that was flooding hotly through her veins and causing a flush to rise up her face. "Do _not_ cite him to me as a role model when it comes to what you intend to do with my children, Thorin. Would you also tell me that Kíli is old enough? Or that Fíli should begin training with a sword as you did at his age?"

"Dís, you can hardly compare me sending Fíli to lessons to what our father set children too," Thorin snarled, angered that she would dare to compare him to the dwarf that had sent children into battle and led to the death of his own son in the process. "I would _never_ —"

"I know you wouldn't!" Dís thundered. " _I_ would never allow it! Just as I won't allow this, Thorin! Fíli is _not_ going to lessons. Not until he is fifteen. I _will not_ budge on this. You _will not_ force this on him before he is ready."

"Damn it, Dís!" Thorin shouted in reply. "I understand that you fear for him. I do. But you cannot delay this forever. What will happen when he turns fifteen? Will you ask me to wait until he is twenty? You're doing him no favors, Sister. Delaying his education will only make it more difficult for you both when the time comes."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me how to raise my children, Brother," Dís breathed. "I neither want nor need your advice. I will make the choices for them that I feel are the best and you _will_ respect my wishes. If not, I am sure that Dáin would be more than willing to allow us to live with him in the Iron Hills. _He_ will not dare to try to impose his will on my sons." She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth and she saw her brother flinch as if she had struck him. She knew that he loved her boys and that what she had said had been below the belt, but she did not take it back. Instead, she stood there, staring at him levelly and trying to pretend that the pain in his eyes as her threat did not rip out her heart.

"Would you truly take them from me, Dís?" Thorin finally breathed. "Is this truly so important to you that if I forced your hand you would leave me? Would you truly take _children_ across the breadth of Arda to the Iron Hills just to protect them from me?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Dís asked, not willing to say that she would not but unable to say that she would not. They both knew that she wouldn't do it, but the threat still hung between them. As she watched her brother's shoulders slump in defeat she felt no satisfaction at her victory, only nausea coiling within her at the tactic she had used to win. She had never thought that she would use her children as a bargaining chip against Thorin and she hated that she had.

"Then have you way in this matter," Thorin whispered, turning to go to his own room. Dís saw him wipe angrily at his eyes and wondered, with a pain that bordered on physical, if she had made him cry. "I will not fight you in this. Fíli will go to lessons when you deem him ready and not a day before. I will not lose you, even if I do believe you are making a grave error."

"Thorin," Dís breathed reaching for him, her eyes soft once more in penance. "I—"

"No, Dís," Thorin replied batting her hand away. "I understand. I overstepped myself and you showed me the error of my ways. Thank you for allowing me what privileges you do where _your_ children are concerned. Forgive me for occasionally forgetting that I have no real claim to them. I will just have to remind myself more often that they are not actually my sons. Good night, Dís." She winced as she heard his door slam shut behind him and the bolt slide into place. He only rarely bolted the door and it was never good when he did. Cursing herself vehemently for her indelicate treatment of her brother, Dís walked slowly into the kitchen and began preparing food for dinner.

She was so distracted that she managed to cut herself for the first time in years. Rather than immediately stop the flow, she instead watched the ruby liquid flow from the gash. _Strange,_ she thought dismally. _Strange that so much fuss is raised over so simple a thing._ She thought about all the blood she had seen over the years, most memorably that of her dear Gíli as he lay dying in their bed. His blood hadn't looked any different than hers did. And hers looked just like Thorin's and her sons. If all of their blood had been the same, despite Gíli's lack of lineage, she couldn't understand what all the fuss was about with the blood of Durin flowing in their veins. Was it not red just as any other dwarf's? What was so special about it that it would cause her family such pain? As she watched her own heart's blood flow, she couldn't help but despise it. 


	9. Greens, Hair and Classes

Thorin did not come to dinner that night. As Dís and the boys sat at the table, his empty place was glaringly obvious, as was the affect that his absence had on Fíli. Dís watched her eldest son with concern as Fíli kept shooting furtive glances at his uncle's empty place before looking down at his own plate in what almost appeared to be shame. She couldn't understand it. Why did Fíli feel shame? She was trying to decide how to broach the topic with her young son when he took matters into his own hands.

"Mother, where's Uncle?" Fíli asked, his small brow furrowing as he examined the room as if Thorin would materialize out of nowhere. "Did he go away again? He didn't say goodbye? He always says goodbye."

"No, Darling," Dís promised as she spooned vegetables onto Kíli's plate, wondering at the eagerness she saw in his eyes as he tucked into them. She wondered where it had come from but pushed in from her mind in favor of answering Fíli's questions. Kíli deciding to eat vegetables was not cause for concern, Fíli's being upset was.

"Your Uncle is in his room," she continued he explanation knowing that her oldest liked to have more information than a yes or no answer. "He hasn't gone anywhere. Won't for a couple of weeks."

"Oh," Fíli replied, his confusion still clear in his tone. "Isn't he hungry? He told Kíli that he was hungry. Did he already eat?"

"I don't know," Dís said sadly, feeling a bit bad for lying to her son. She knew that Thorin hadn't eaten. He hadn't left his room since their argument. "He hasn't spoken to me since just after you returned from your outing. I'm afraid he's a bit miffed with me."

"No he's not," Fíli whispered, looking away from his mother in shame. "He's upset with me."

"Oh, Fíli! He's not! He never could be," Dís promised, her heart breaking that her son could think for a moment that any of this was his fault when it was her own. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"It's nothing, Mother," Fíli replied still refusing to meet her eye. "He . . . it's nothing. I'll just figure out what it was and not do it again." It was clear to Dís that Fíli didn't believe that it was nothing. He was deeply bothered by whatever had happened when he had been out with Thorin that day. She didn't know what had happened, but she intended to find out.

With a sigh, she sat the bowl of greens back on the table, noting that Kíli reached for it and added more to his plate almost desperately, before kneeling beside Fíli and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She turned his head to face her and felt her heart break and tears sting her eyes at the confusion and pain in his young blue eyes.

"Tell me," she commanded gently stroking his downy face with her thumb. "You can tell me anything, my little ray of sunshine. What happened, sweetheart?" She watched as her son swallowed heavily and took a deep breath before his eyes filled with tears and the incident spilled from him all in a rush.

"I ... when we were out today, Kíli climbed a tree," Fíli explained. Dís eyes flicked to her youngest who flinched a bit at the heat in his mother's gaze but offered her a small smile and popped another carrot into his mouth. She wanted to glare at him but Fíli was still talking and she returned her full attention to him. There would be time later to talk about to Kíli about his tree-climbing.

"—and I don't know what I did," Fíli was saying tears beginning to choke his words, "but I have to have done something. Uncle has never been so cool towards me before."

"Oh, Fíli," Dís sighed pulling her son against her and stroking the unbraided back of his hair. "Your uncle was probably only short with you because he was worried for Kíli's safety. He didn't mean it, my darling. Thorin loves you. He thinks of you as his own," she promised trying to tamp down her own guilt at what she had said to her brother earlier.

"I. . .I know that," Fíli sobbed. "I know he loves me but . . . Mother, I  . . . he was short with me _all_ day. Ever since I asked to take out my braids. Was that it? Was that what I did wrong? Was he upset because princes should wear braids and I was not giving my place the respect he felt it was due?"

"Fíli, my dear sweet boy, your uncle was _not_ irritated with you," Dís promised. " _I_ am the one he is cross with. He is not used to being told no and I did that this morning and again this evening. He is not angry with _you_ , Fíli. You did nothing wrong. You're still too young to be forced into braids, save for on special occasions."

"All the same," Fíli said, his tone revealing that he was unconvinced by his mother's words, "will you redo them before I go to lessons tomorrow with Mr. Balin?"

"You do not have to go to lessons tomorrow, Fíli," Dís replied doing her best to keep her irritation with Thorin out of her tone. The last thing she needed was Fíli thinking she was irritated with him. "There is no need yet. Your uncle and I talked it out and you will begin lessons on the day after your fifteenth birthday. Don't worry, Fíli."

"But . . . Uncle wanted me to go to lessons," Fíli said in confusion. "He said as much. I . . . I don't—"

"I talked him out of his foolishness," she replied simply. "You do not need to go to lessons tomorrow. We have decided." Suddenly Fíli knew what his mother and his uncle had fought about: it was him and whether or not he would go to lessons. He hated to be the cause of the rift between them. It was not fair. Not over this. He tried the one thing that he could think of to fix it.

"But . . . Mother, I . . . I _want_ to go," Fíli said, feeling quite proud of himself when his voice did not quiver. "I want to go to lessons."

"What?" Dís asked in shock. Surely Fíli was not serious! There was no way a child would _want_ to go to school. She remembered when she had been sent to be educated. It had take both the coercion of her brothers and the threat of punishment from her father if she disobeyed to get her to comply and neither Thorin nor Frerin had behaved any differently.

"I want to go," Fíli repeated, his gaze steady. Dís sighed. She hadn't thought to factor Fíli's wishes into the matter. He may be a child but he was old enough to make such small decisions, as Thorin had pointed out, her son was intelligent. If Fíli _wanted_ to go . . . it changed things.

"You want to go?" She asked again still skeptical of her son's sudden conviction to go to lessons. "Your uncle didn't convince you to say that to me, did he?"

"Uncle and I didn't talk about lessons today," Fíli replied. "We . . . we didn't really talk at all." Dís closed her eyes and sighed.

"If you are sure this is what you want," she said eventually staring into her son's blue eyes and trying to see a lie in them. There was none, Fíli _wanted_ this. "I will have your uncle take you to Balin in the afternoon. You do not have to do this, Fíli. If you get there and change your mind you are free to come home. Until you are fifteen, you are only going because _you_ want to. Neither I nor anyone else will not force you to until then. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," Fíli answered. "But don't worry. I want to go. And  . . . before I do can you redo my hair, please?" Dís nodded sadly with another sigh and hugged him tightly to her before pressing a kiss to his brow and standing to finish passing out dinner. When she reached for the bowl of vegetables that she had  sat down to comfort her eldest, she found it empty. She looked under the table with a bemused expression wondering if Kíli had tried to get rid of them while she was distracted: there were no vegetables there.

"Kíli," she said slowly as she came back out from under the table, looking at her youngest in her best 'don't-lie-to-your-mother' face, "darling, where are the vegetables."

"Eated," Kíli replied, holding his stomach with his face twisted into a grimace.

"Eated?" Dís asked in confusion. "Kíli . . . did you eat _all_ of the vegetables!?" Her son nodded and she felt a laugh force its way up her throat. "Why on earth would you do such a thing, you foolish dwarfling!?"

"Don't want to go bald," Kíli muttered miserably before he curled around himself with a whimper holding his stomach. Dís sighed and sat down beside Kíli to smooth his wild hair from his brow. He wasn't running a fever, he'd just eaten too much. Content that her child was not _actually_ ill, Dís continued her questioning.

"You don't want to . . . how are those two things related, Kíli?" Dís asked trying to piece Kíli's logic together and drawing a blank.

"Mr. Dwalin," Kíli said as if it explained everything.

"Kíli," she sighed in exasperation, "You need to give me more information, son. I don't understand what you're trying to say." Rather than speak again, Kíli whimpered and curled into her.

"Stomach hurts," he muttered nuzzling her as if that would stop the pain. She wished that it would.

"That happens when you eat too much, Kíli," Dís said simply. "Can you tell me what prompted you to eat so many vegetables. You don't even _like_ vegetables, Kíli!"

"I don't want to be . . ." Kíli trailed off as he began looking decidedly green. Knowing what was going to follow, Dís snagged the bowl off the table and held in under Kíli's chin just as he retched. Once he finished he looked at her with a miserable expression on his face and tears in his brown eyes and it was everything that she could do not to laugh. She knew that was the wrong reaction but . . . at any rate she managed to contain it. She tried to disentangle herself from Kíli to dispose of the contents of the bowl but he refused to release her and seemed unwilling or unable to explain his strange logic.

"Fíli?" she asked, hoping that her oldest could give her some insight into the crazed ramblings of her youngest.

"It was how Uncle got him out of the tree," Fíli explained, coming over to stand beside his mother and brother now that he had been invited. "Kíli refused to come down if there were going to be greens and Uncle pointed out that Mr. Dwalin does not eat his greens and is bald and _hinted_ that the two things might be related." Dís nodded. That made a good deal more sense.

"Darling," she whispered stroking Kíli's hair, "eating greens has nothing to do with growing hair."

"Are you sure?" Kíli demanded.

"No," she admitted with a shrug. "But Thorin never ate greens growing up and he has a respectable amount of hair, doesn't he?" Kíli nodded before a frown crossed his face once more. Dís began looking for a new bowl in panic, knowing that this one was not going to be enough if he vomited again only to stop when he said the words that nearly ripped her heart from her chest.

"I'm still going to eat them," he said. "I don't want people to think I'm not a dwarf because I don't have hair."

"Darling, you'll grow hair," Dís promised. "You're still a child. People forget because you're so tall but . . . it'll grow in time."

"Do you promise?" Kíli asked, looking up at her with tear-filled, hopeful brown eyes. And Dís gave him the only answer that she could, even if she knew that it was possible that she was wrong.

"I promise," she said. She only hoped that it came in sooner rather than later for Kíli's sake.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next morning, Thorin had still not left his room as far as Dís could tell. She had intended to allow him to come out on his own, but his continued absence was upsetting the boys. They could sense the tension in the house and they were fidgety and cross, Fíli actually going so far as to snap at Kíli for bothering him. It was then that Dís knew she had to do something.

"Go outside and play boys," she said with a smile. "Stay in the yard and Kíli, stay out of that tree. Fíli, make sure he does." She waited for them to nod their understanding before she shooed them out the door. With a sigh, she turned to go back into the house and confront her brother. She took a deep breath before she raised her hand and rapped sharply on his door.

"Thorin!" she called. "Open this door!"

"Go away, Dís," came the muffled reply.

"I'm not going away," she called back. "Now you either open this door or I _swear_ I will break it down! You can't just mope in there. The boys miss you, Thorin. Come out!"

"Go away!" he snapped. "You made your point last night, you don't need to come here and gloat!"

"I'm not here to gloat!" She yelled. "Now open up!" There was no reply this time and Dís felt herself begin to lose her temper with her brother. He was acting like a _dwarfling_! And she was done negotiating.

"Thorin, I'm getting the axe," Dís threatened. "If this door isn't open by the time I get back I _will_ open it."  She had just turned to make for the kitchen when she heard the bolt slide open, though the door itself was not opened. Taking another deep breath, she wondered just how bad it would be this time and slowly opened the door. Her eyes took in the darkened room and she heaved a sigh of relief. She'd seen worse. At least nothing appeared to be broken this time: save for Thorin himself.

After he had unlocked the door he had laid back down on his bed facing away from her and curled up on his side. She closed the door behind her so that the boys wouldn't see him like this if they came in and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Thorin, I'm sorry," Dís said reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder and ignoring his flinch at the contact. "I . . . I shouldn't have threatened you the way I did."

"Would you have done it?" he asked, his voice rough. She now knew that he had been crying. "Would you really leave me alone?"

"No," Dís said, fighting back her own tears at her brother's pain. "You know I wouldn't. I love you, Thorin. You just . . . they're children. You need to remember that."

"They're _your_ children, you mean," Thorin said bitterly. "My love for them does not count for anything if you disagree with me on a matter."

"They are," she agreed. "They are my children and you do need to remember that. _But_ I also need to remember that you love them just as much as I do. And they love you. They miss you, Thorin. They're worried about you. And so am I."

"I'm fine, Dís," he replied tersely.

"This is fine, Thorin!?" she demanded. "Moping in the dark is what you consider 'fine'!? I'm afraid I have to disagree, Brother. You need to get up, wash your face and come eat something so that you can take Fíli to lessons this afternoon."

"He's not going," Thorin muttered. "You decided that, remember Dís?"

"I remember," she replied. "And last night at dinner I changed my mind. Fíli _wants_ to go, Thorin. I won't stand in the way of something he wants. _But_ if he changes his mind, I _will_ stand between you and Balin forcing him to continue."

"I wouldn't," Thorin said. "I . . . I can't lose you too. Not after . . ." he stopped and rolled over to face her, tears in his blue eyes. " _Please_ don't take them from me, Dís. I will do whatever you ask but _please_ don't make me lose them. I . . . I don't think . . ."

"Hush," Dís whispered pulling her brother to her chest just as she had Fíli the night before, unable to stop her tears at just what her thoughtless words had done to her brother. "I won't do that, Thorin. I never should have said it. We're not going anywhere. You _won't_ lose us. I promise. I won't take them from you, Brother. I swear it. We're going to stay with you." Thorin said nothing in reply but his arms wrapped around her and his hands clung desperately to the back of her dress as he tried to regain control of himself. Eventually he pulled back with a sniffle, only his red-rimmed eyes revealing what had just passed between them.

He cleared his throat and made to stand. "So Fíli is going to classes?" he asked gruffly.

"He is," she agreed, wiping her own eyes on her sleeve and swallowing heavily to clear her throat.

"And Kíli?" Thorin asked.

"He's going to stay here with me," Dís said. "He expressed no interest in classes. Though I think they would benefit him. Somehow that _insane_ little dwarfling has gotten it into his head that eating greens will stave off baldness and promote hair growth?"

"Has he?" Thorin replied, searching for a clean shirt and pulling his dirty one over his head when he found it and changing right in the middle of the room.

"He has," she answered unfazed by her brother's lack of modesty. "Ate the entire serving bowl full of vegetables last night. Neither Fíli nor I got any. Made himself sick." Thorin snorted with laughter at the mental image of Kíli stuffing himself so thoroughly with greens that he turned green.

"It's not funny, Thorin!" Dís snapped, though the laughter in her voice revealed that she thought it was as well. "He vomited. Nearly on me! If I hadn't thought to grab the bowl . . ."

"I'm sorry, Dís, but I disagree," Thorin said shaking his head indulgently at his youngest nephew's antics. He hoped that Kíli never changed. That child could always make him smile no matter what was going on, even if he could be a bit trying at time with his stubborn nature.  

"I'll see what I can do about correcting his misconception," Thorin offered, seeing Dís' mock glare. "I'll go find him now, shall I?"

"Wash your face first," Dís said with a gentle smile. "Won't do for the boys to know that their Uncle Thorin can cry, will it?" Thorin gave a small laugh in reply and nodded. Dís was right. They had no need to know that he had been upset. With that in mind, he placed a gentle hand on Dís' shoulder and gave her a small smile of thanks before he made his way to the bathroom to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are all, a new chapter of this one! I hope that you enjoyed it. Odds are I will not be getting a new chapter up next week as I have my final exam but the good news is that after that I have 3 weeks free that I can write all I want :) So we will try to get some more chapters sandbagged for once school starts again :)


	10. Moderation, Braids and Broken Hearts

By the time Thorin went to the boys, there were no signs of his earlier distress. He had washed his face and had pushed down his pain. When he opened the door and walked into the yard to find them, he was even able to smile at their antics as Kíli tried to scramble out from under his brother while Fíli pinned him.

"I'll let you up when you admit you lost," Fíli was saying.

"I haven't lost yet!" Kíli was shrieking as he squirmed. "I can still move. I haven't lost yet!"

"You have too, Kíli!" Fíli snarled trying to pin his brother's swinging limbs and nearly allowing Kíli to escape in the process.

"I have not!" Kíli replied. "Uncle always says that if you can move you aren't beat and Mother says if you're still alive it's not over. I refuse to give up!"

"And just how do you plan to get free, little one?" Thorin asked inserting himself into the conversation as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an indulgent smile on his face.

"Uncle!" Kíli cried happily squirming more forcefully to be free from Fíli's hold, which Fíli allowed with a wry smile as Kíli scrambled to his feet and sprinted to Thorin's waiting arms.

"You didn't come to dinner," Kíli pouted resting his head on Thorin's shoulder. "I thought Mother was wrong and that you had left without saying goodbye."

"I'd never leave without saying goodbye to you, Kíli," Thorin promised placing his cheek on the top of his nephew's head. "Though I am a bit disappointed that I missed dinner. I hear that you gave quite a performance last night."

"He sure did!" Fíli laughed coming over to them cautiously, wondering if his uncle was still angry with him. Thorin seemed calmer but Fíli knew that he could still be angry since he hadn't figured out what he's done wrong to apologize for it yet.

"I didn't know Kíli could be that color!" Fíli added. Kíli grimaced and went a bit green just from the memory, squirming deeper into Thorin's hold and gripping his stomach at the memory of feeling too full.

"I'm sure your poor brother doesn't appreciate that reminder, lad," Thorin said patting Kíli comfortingly and giving Fíli a disapproving look.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, Kíli," Fíli whispered. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Apology accepted," Thorin replied patting Fíli's shoulder. "Right, little one?" He bounced Kíli to encourage him to speak at which Kíli muttered, "Apology accepted."

"Tell me, little one," Thorin said, trying to draw Kíli out of the pout he had fallen into, "did you at least learn something?"

"Greens are bad," Kíli said resolutely, his little face crinkled into a scowl.

"Not quite," Thorin said with a laugh. "Try again, Kíli."

"I'm never eating greens again?" Kíli tried hopefully, his brown eyes wide with hope.

"Not that either," Thorin said. "I thought you were determined to eat them to stave off baldness. Which there is no real link to, by the way, little one. To my knowledge greens have nothing to do with hair growth."

"I don't know," Kíli muttered burying his head once more.

"Fíli," Thorin asked turning to the eldest. "Do you know what the lesson _should_ have been, lad?"

"Moderation, Uncle," Fíli answered quietly. "Kíli should have learned that even good things are bad for you if you eat too much of them." Thorin nodded and reached over to ruffle Fíli's blonde hair.

"Aye, lad, that was the lesson," Thorin said with a gentle smile. "Such a bright lad." Fíli practically _glowed_ at the praise. Thorin smiled at him a moment more before clearing his throat and composing his features as he took on the role of King rather than Uncle and began discussing lessons with his heir.

"Speaking of lessons," Thorin said by meaning of transition, "I hear that you've decided to go today." Fíli nodded, his features pinched as he hoped for another smile but his uncle's face remained grave. "Your mother asked me to remind you that you do not have to do this."

"I know that, Uncle," Fíli said quietly. "I _want_ to." Thorin hummed quietly in his throat, pleased at the answer.

"That is very mature of you, Fíli," Thorin said offering his nephews another smile and placing a hand on his cheek. "I am proud of you for making this decision. Your education will be your most important weapon as a King. Swords and axes are important, yes, but if you have the right education you may be able to avoid needing the other two in the first place. This is my first lesson to you, Fíli, as a King to his heir: war is something to be avoided. There are no real winners. Even the victors will have losses. However, if war is unavoidable it is far better to be victorious than to be defeated. Do you understand?"

"Don't seek out a fight but if one happens win?" Fíli asked, his mouth pulling up in a half-grimace as he tried to think through his uncle's logic.

"Very good," Thorin said. "Keep that in mind, lad. It may save your life someday. You too, little one." Kíli nodded and Thorin turned his attention back to Fíli. "Since today is your first day, I will take you to Balin after lunch. In a few hours, no more than three, either I or your mother and Kíli will come for you. You are not to leave without either your mother or me. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Uncle," Fíli replied, nodding to show his complete understanding of the order.

"Uncle," Kíli said suddenly, pulling one of Thorin's braids to get his attention.

"Yes, little one?" Thorin replied turning his attention to Kíli with a wry smile.

"I want to go too," Kíli said, a small whine in his voice.

"What?" Thorin asked completely shocked by this move by his youngest. "What are you saying, Kíli?"

"I want to go with, Fee," Kíli said. "I don't want to be alone all afternoon. I want to go to lessons with Fíli."

"Kíli, you're too young, lad," Thorin said soothingly, though he was more than distressed by Kíli's request. Kíli couldn't go to lessons yet. He was just a child. There was no need for him to learn of the cruelties of the world just yet: even if that cruelty was just mathematics.

"But I _want_ to go," Kíli said. "Mother said that was why Fíli gets to. He wants to go and he gets to, why can't I?" Thorin floundered. He wanted to give Kíli anything he could possibly want but he knew that his sister _would_ use that axe if he told her six-year-old son that he was allowed to go to school.

"Dís!" Thorin called suddenly, trying to push the matter off on her. She was their mother. She could tell the lad 'no.' She was better at that than Thorin at any rate, or so he tried to convince himself. He wished that he hadn't sounded so panicked when he called her as he heard the pot clatter to the table and she appeared in the doorway looking clearly terrified.

"Thorin!?" she called as she rounded the corner. "Thorin, what happened!?" She took in the sight of both of her sons, healthy, fine and with no visible wounds and her heart began to restart.

"Thorin," she breathed, fury just below the surface that her brother had scared her like that for nothing. "What was so important that it merited scaring me nearly to death?"

"I thought you should hear this and deal with it yourself," Thorin said. "Bear in mind, Dís, I did _not_ put him up to it and would like you to talk some sense into him. Tell your mother what you just told me, little one," he said setting Kíli down and nudging him towards Dís. Kíli looked at Thorin, beseeching his uncle to tell his mother for him.

"No, Kíli," Thorin said shaking his head with an indulgent smile. "If you think you're old enough to do this, then you are old enough to ask for permission."

"What are you wanting to do, my darling?" Dís asked kneeling down beside her son and extending a hand in welcome. He placed his own small hand in hers and looked into her eyes.

"I want to go with Fee, Mother," Kíli whispered, looking up at her through his hair. "I . . . I don't want to be alone. If Fee goes then I want to go too. We've . . . we've never been apart before and . . . I don't want to be apart."

"Kíli," Dís sighed pulling Kíli against her. "He'll be back, Son. No more than a couple of hours. You won't even miss him if we time your nap right. You'll never even know he's gone."

"Will too," Kíli muttered nuzzling his mother's neck. "I need Fee to nap, Mother. I can't sleep without him."

"You've never tried, Kíli," Dís replied. "I'll bet you can if you try."

"But what if I can't?!" Kíli asked clearly distressed by the prospect of being without his brother. Dís stroked his hair in an attempt to soothe him and looked to Thorin for help. Kíli idolized his uncle, if Thorin would come down on Dís' side she knew that the battle was won. And she could see that he wanted to forbid it. 'Please', she mouthed. Thorin sighed.

"You can't go, little one," Thorin said firmly. "I'm sorry but you can't."

"Why not?" Kíli demanded.

"Balin won't have anything planned for you to do," Thorin said truthfully. "I only asked him to plan for your brother. Do you want to upset Balin?"

"No," Kíli replied bitterly. "But, Uncle, can't we just ask him? What if he doesn't mind?" Thorin and Dís exchanged a look at the question, Thorin waiting for Dís' approval before he agreed to anything, her threat the day before ringing in his ears. Dís gave him a small curt nod, knowing that Balin would turn Kíli down. He hadn't wanted Fíli to go, there was no way he would accept her youngest.

"Alright," Thorin said. "We can ask Balin. _But_ , Kíli, the moment he says no, _if_ he does, you are coming straight home. You're not to argue with him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle," Kíli said, knowing that if he had convinced his mother and uncle then Mr. Balin would be no problem. And then Dís thought of the one thing that would discourage Kíli from even attempting it in the first place without her having to forbid it.

"Kíli," Dís said, fighting to keep the triumph from her voice a failing a bit. He looked at her, his brown eyes showing apprehension at his mother's tone.

"Yes, Mother?" Kíli said edging towards his uncle. Thorin smirked knowing where Dís was going with this and knowing that she had just singlehandedly won this round without either of them having to upset him. Kíli would refuse to go once she was done. Dís winked at him as she caught his smirk.

"Kíli, if you are going to go to lessons as your uncle's heir—which is what this would be, Son—you have to look the part," Dís said gently. Kíli was shaking his head even before his mother had finished her statement knowing where this was going. "That means braids."

"No, Mother," Kíli whined. "Please?"

"If you don't want to wear them, then I'm afraid you can't go," Dís replied with a shrug and a triumphant glint in her brown eyes.

"Uncle?" Kíli asked turning to Thorin with a plea for clemency in his brown eyes to which Thorin shrugged, fighting the urge to laugh at just how easy Kíli was to defeat.

"You would be going as my heir," Thorin said. "Braids are part of the position, little one. But if you don't want to wear them . . ." Kíli thought about it a moment before he nodded.

"I'll wear them," Kíli said, looking at Thorin. "If you'll do them for me."

"You want _me_ to braid your hair?" Thorin breathed. Kíli nodded. Thorin shook his head with a smile on his face.

"Fine, little one," he agreed. "I'll braid your hair for you. Now, keep in mind that it doesn't mean that Balin will let you stay." Kíli nodded and crawled happily into his Uncle's lap once more. Crisis averted, Dís stood again and walked back into the house, shaking her head and wondering what the people would think of their King if they knew that he could be cowed by a brown-eyed dwarfling. She had just left when she heard something that almost made her go back out and beat her brother senseless.

"Uncle?" Fíli asked his voice bright enough that Dís could nearly hear the smile in his voice. She heard her brother hum his acknowledgment before her son spoke again, "will you redo my braids as well?" There was a pause and Dís nearly sobbed as she knew what Thorin's answer would be before he gave it. Even though she knew that her brother was going to refuse, it still hurt to hear it. The short clipped tone he used with Fíli nearly broke her heart and she understood now what Fíli had meant when he said that Thorin seemed mad at him.

"No, lad," Thorin said. "I'm not very good at braiding, I'm afraid. It'll take me too long to do both yours and Kíli's. See if your mother will."

"Yes, Uncle," Fíli whispered. Dís could tell by his tone that her son was nearly in tears at his uncle's rejection and Thorin didn't even seem to notice. If she didn't know that seeing her drag Thorin through the door and yell at him would only upset Fíli further—and Kíli along with him—she would have done it. As it was, she filed it away for later. She and Thorin _would_ talk about this, even if she did risk driving him away from himself again so soon in the process.

"I . . . I'm going to go in and help Mother with lunch, if that's alright," Fíli said. Thorin must have nodded because only seconds later she heard Fíli's small boots on the steps. He was just inside the door when she heard the first sniffle. Before the first tear could fall, Dís was there scooping her son into her arms and moving towards the kitchen.

"Hush," she whispered into his golden-hair. "Hush, darling. It'll be fine."

"What did I do?" Fíli sobbed. "Why is he cross with me? I . . . I'm going to class like he wanted. What more does he want from me? I . . . what did I _do_?" The last four words contained such anguish that Dís rethought her position on yelling at her brother right now.

"You did nothing, darling," Dís replied setting him on the counter so that she could stroke his back. Fíli was getting too large for her to hold and pet and he needed petting at the moment. When his sobs had calmed a bit, she pulled back a bit and bent so that she could look into his eyes, putting a hand on both sides of his face. The pain and confusion in his blue eyes and tears clinging to his lashes did break her heart. She instantly rethought her plan to simply yell at her brother: she was going to _beat_ him bloody for hurting her son like this.

"Listen to me, Fíli," she said firmly. "You have done _nothing_ wrong, dear heart. Your uncle . . . Mahal bless him . . . Thorin, he goes through spells where he is short with everyone. Even me. This will pass, darling. You'll see."

"Never Kíli," Fíli whispered.

"What?" Dís asked, feeling her eyebrows come together in confusion.

"Uncle's never short with Kíli," Fíli repeated. "You said he's been short with you, and he's been short with me, but not Kíli. He likes him better than he does me. I . . . I don't know what I did to cause it but it must have been something."

"You. Have. Done. Nothing," Dís whispered. "You have behaved just as you should. Any problem Thorin has with you is his own. You've done nothing, Fíli. You have to trust me on this. Your uncle loves you just as much as he loves Kíli. I know it."

"The why has he been so cold to me the past couple of days?" Fíli asked desperately. If he hadn't done anything wrong then what other reason could his mother offer him for his uncle's sudden change. Dís stood and continued to set the table for lunch as she tried to think of an explanation that Fíli would understand as she couldn't see telling him that her brother—his dear uncle—was broken. Finally she came up with an answer. It was a poor one but it was true enough and would convince Fíli until she could convince Thorin he was being an idiot.

"That is just the way of these things, my darling," she said  turning back to him with a sad smile. "Thorin . . . he loves you and your brother equally. I know he does. He's only treated you differently the past couple of days because you now know your future. Now he is trying to prepare you for the burden you will someday be forced to carry. A burden that will never be Kíli's; just as it would never have been mine."

"What if I don't want to carry it, Mother?" Fíli asked looking at his hands in his lap. She smiled gently at him and placed her hands on either side of his head and tipped his face up so that she could look into his eyes once more.

"I am afraid that you have no choice in the matter, Fíli," she had replied placing a gentle kiss on his brow. "You are the eldest child of the next generation of the line of Durin. One day you will be king. All that Thorin and I can do is prepare you to take up the mantle when the time comes. If he ever seems too cold or distant . . . bear in mind that he  **does**  love you, my darling son. Your uncle loves you more than he loves life itself and he is only doing what he believes he must to make you a good king." _Even if he breaks both of our hearts in the process,_ she mentally added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are all, new chapter of this one out. I hope it was worth the wait! Good news is that now I have three weeks to write without interruptions from school!


	11. Lessons All Around

After a very uncomfortable lunch where Dís glared at her brother the entire time and Fíli shot anxious looks between them while Kíli ferociously dug into the greens his mother had put on his plate—making sure to set the serving bowl out of reach to prevent a repeat of the night before—Thorin took both of his freshly braided heirs and headed to Balin's office. As was usual, Kíli was situated on his hip and Fíli clutching his hand as they made their way through the market. This day, however, none of the people came near.

Dís' behavior at lunch had put Thorin on edge and there was a nervous energy that radiated from him that gave them a cushion of space. He knew that his sister blamed him for Fíli going and for Kíli wanting to and knew that was why she had been so angry with him. She might joke about needing time away from her little demons but she loved the boys and he knew that she would miss them even in so little time, though she would deny it.

When they reached the building that housed Balin's office, Thorin set Kíli down beside his brother and straightened both of their clothing. When they were smoothed to his satisfaction, Thorin stood once more taking both Kíli and Fíli's hands and leading them in.

"Remember, little one," he told Kíli, "you are allowed to _ask_ if he will let you stay but that is all you are allowed to do. If he says no . . ."

"I come home with you," Kíli muttered. Thorin nodded and knocked on Balin's door. There was only a second's pause and then Balin's voice wafted through the door, telling them to enter.

"Best behavior, lads," Thorin reminded gently before opening the door.

"Thorin!" Balin said, looking up from his paperwork after Thorin and the boys were through the door and missing the children over his desk. "What brings you here?"

"I'm bringing Fíli to you as I said I would," Thorin explained gesturing to his blonde heir with a small smile.

"So Dís couldn't talk so sense into you about this?" Balin said with a sigh standing to come around the desk and better see the lads. They looked quite the picture with their matching braids and clean clothing. Nothing like the wild little dwarflings that had been rolling in the grass the previous day. They were a matched set, one colored like the day and the other like the night. He hadn't spent much time with them but he had to wonder if their personalities were opposites as well.  

"Oh she convinced me that he didn't need to come but she didn't convince _him_ ," Thorin said with a small laugh nudging Fíli gently forward. "Fíli is only here because he wants to be. Neither of us forced him and if he changes his mind we will respect that. It was Dís' ruling on this."

"He _wants_ to be?!" Balin asked incredulously before turning his attention to the boy in question. "Is that true, lad? You wanted to come here today."

"Yes, Mr. Balin, sir," Fíli replied trying to be on his best behavior. "Mother told me I didn't have to but I told her I wanted to. So here I am. Will you teach me?" Balin couldn't help but smile at Fíli's question. With his shy blue eyes and hopeful tone Balin couldn't say no. The boy really was far too cute for his own good.

"Aye, lad," Balin said, his voice and eyes gentle. "I'll teach you."

"And me too?!" Kíli chirped from Thorin's other side. "Will you teach me too, Mr. Balin?"

"Aye, lad," Balin said with a laugh at just how eager Kíli was at the prospect of lessons. The tiny dwarfling was actually _bouncing_ at the idea. He'd never seen anything like it. He rapidly decided that they were opposites: with Kíli being hyper and forward to Fíli's calm shyness.

"Thank you!" Kíli squealed throwing himself at Balin's knees and hugging them. "I so wanted to stay with Fíli and Mother and Uncle said that I can if I agreed to wear braids and you said yes! Thank you!" Balin looked at Thorin in confusion and the King just shook his head sadly.

"Kíli, lad, do you mean _today_?" Balin asked bending down to look at the dwarfling on his level. Kíli nodded enthusiastically, his brown eyes bright and wide. "Surely you would prefer to play outside with your uncle or mother than stay cooped up in here with me, wouldn't you?"

"It's no fun to play without Fíli," Kíli complained. "I want to stay here, with him. With you. Can't I, Mr. Balin? Please?" Balin sighed. With the way the lad was looking at him so hopefully, he couldn't say no. He really did have a soft spot for children and didn't like to tell them no if he didn't need to. Though he _did_ decide that he needed to learn Dís' secret for motivating dwarflings to _want_ to come to class. Oh, the fits he'd seen over the years when parents decided that they needed to school their children. If Dís' secret was marketable, she would make a fortune: and not a small one either.

"Aye, lad," Balin said, shaking his head indulgently. "You can stay." He wasn't prepared for the high-pitched squeal of joy that followed, or for Kíli to throw himself at him, but he couldn't say that he was displeased by it either. He would give the lad one thing: he was enthusiastic.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Dís was sitting on the front steps when Thorin returned home from taking Fíli to school. Her expression was blank but Thorin almost looked as if someone had slapped him. He seemed shocked. Her youngest was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Kíli?" she asked without even bothering to greet Thorin.

"He . . . Balin let him stay," Thorin said sounding just as shocked as he looked.

"Good," Dís replied in a curt voice.

"Good?" Thorin snapped. "He's _seven_ , Dís. It very well is _not_ good. I thought you wanted him not to go. What would make you think that this is good?"

"He wanted to be with his brother," Dís replied with a shrug.  "Balin will be gentle with him. It's not like we sent him to weapons training. Anyway, I'm just glad that he's not going to be here for this and I don't have to find some way to get rid of him."

"Get rid of him?" Thorin asked, wondering just what had gotten into his sister. She was talking about getting rid of her youngest and she seemed furious. It wasn't as if this were entirely his fault that her sons were in lessons. He had merely suggested it. Fíli wanted to go, Kíli wanted to be with Fíli and Balin had let him. It wasn't like Thorin had drug them to lessons like Thráin had and threatened to tie them to the chair if they wouldn't stay and punish them if they didn't pay attention. They had gone freely.

"Yes," Dís snapped before grabbing Thorin roughly by the elbow and dragging him bodily through the door. Once they were inside, she released him and slammed the front door.

"Dís? What—"

"Don't speak," she snapped. "Don't speak, just _listen._ "

"Dís!" Thorin tried again, not understanding what she was so upset about. It was a very rare thing for her to put her hands on anyone like that, let alone him."I—"

"That's speaking, Thorin!" She snarled moving forward to put her hand over his mouth. "You're supposed to be listening." Thorin had the brief, childish impulse to lick her hand before deciding that it was below his station and sighing. "Good," she said pulling her hand back but not moving out of his personal space as she spoke.

"Now . . . I do _not_ know what your problem is with my son," Dís began her voice quivering with furry, "but you need to figure it out and _fix_ it. I _will not_ tolerate you upsetting him like this when he has done _nothing_ to merit your ire. He _loves_ you, Thorin. Worships you, even. I don't know what you _imagine_ that he's done, but I can assure you that any—"

"I don't have a problem with your sons," Thorin replied. "With either of them. I don't know what you're talking about, Dís." Dís saw that he looked genuinely distraught at the idea that she believed he did but she didn't care. She'd heard what she heard.

"Then why did you refuse Fíli," she demanded. "All he wanted from you was the same thing that you were giving Kíli. If you were going to refuse either of them I had thought that it would have been Kíli. He asked while being a petulant child and you gave it to him instantly but Fíli . . . he asked _nicely_ , Thorin. Why couldn't you just do it? What would it have hurt?"

"Is this about me agreeing to do Kíli's braids but not Fíli's?" Thorin asked. "Dís, you know that—"

"Don't you DARE lie to me, Brother," Dís snarled. "I know for a fact that you can braid. And that you are both quick and skilled at it. Do _not_ try to tell me the same lie you told my son. Why, I've seen you do your own hair, mine and Frerin's in less than half an hour. You could have done Fíli and Kíli's and _still_ had them there on time and you know it. And even if they weren't there 'on time' you and I both know that Balin wouldn't have cared."

"It wasn't a lie, Dís," Thorin countered. "It's been over a hundred years since I did that. I'm not capable of it anymore."

"Thorin, you're only a hundred and thirty," Dís sighed. "Grandfather could still braid up until the last time I saw him. In fact he did. The night before you all marched off to war he did all of our hair, remember?"

"I remember, Dís," Thorin sighed, closing his eyes and feeling again his grandfather's fingers in his hair as the old dwarf wove both his and his brother's hair into the plaits of their line for war. Dís had gotten a different style, but she had sat and been braided as well. Hers had been braids of hope and victory. Obviously they hadn't held the magic Grandfather had believed they did.

"Then tell me the truth; why didn't you braid Fíli's hair?" Dís asked. "What would it have hurt?"

"I . . . I don't know, Sister," Thorin replied, his brows drawing down as he tried to think through it. "He asked me and . . . I _couldn't_ say yes. I don't know why. I just . . . I couldn't do it. He was standing there looking at me with such innocent eyes but when I looked at him . . . I couldn't do it, Dís. His hair . . .I couldn't bring myself to touch it. Not like that . . . not like . . . not after . . ." Thorin looked away, unable to finish the thought to himself let alone aloud.

Dís slapped him.

She couldn't remember deciding to do it and wasn't entirely sure why she had, but it was clear that she had. The reddened place on Thorin's cheek and the stinging in her own palm were testament to her violence. She drew in a shuddering breath as she stared into Thorin's shocked blue eyes. His hand cautiously came up to his cheek and touched it, wincing slightly at the tenderness he felt there. He was beyond shocked; Dís had _hit_ him.

"Dís . . . " Thorin breathed, unsure what he had said to make her strike him. She had only hit him once before and it hadn't been nearly as hard that time as it was this time. True, she had playfully swatted him more than once but she'd never struck him. Not like this.

"You need to find a way to do it," Dís said, tears beginning to flow both from the fact that she had just slapped her brother and at the memory of Fíli's tears. "You have no problem touching Kíli's hair like that. The only real difference between them is the color. The texture is even similar though Fíli's is a bit softer—easier to braid even. I don't know why you can't do it, but you need to figure it out and get over whatever problem you have with his hair." Even as she said that, Thorin's words about Fíli's resemblance to Frerin rang in her ears but she savagely pushed it way. Surely Thorin wasn't so foolish as to conflate the issue.

" You _need_ to figure out a way to bring yourself to show your nephew the love he deserves from you, Thorin. You told me that you need them, both of them, so _show_ Fíli that you need him," She continued. "You can say that you love him all you want—"

"I do, Dís," Thorin protested. "I  . . . "

"He thinks you hate him, Thorin," Dís said, knowing that her words would hurt her brother but that he needed to hear them. "He thinks you're angry with him and he blames himself for making you angry."

"Why does he—"

"Because of how you _speak_ to him!" Dís said incredulously. Surely her brother wasn't so dense as to not realize he was treating Fíli differently than Kíli.

"How I . . . I don't speak to him any differently than I do to Kíli," Thorin said. "I even offer him more praise than I do Kíli because he earns it. Fíli is such a bright child, Dís. He's smarter than Kíli."

"You can't compare them like that, Thorin!" Dís exclaimed. "It's not fair. Fíli is five years older than Kíli. Of course he's going to seem smarter. Kíli's not stupid. Foolish, yes, and young but not stupid. You can't compare the two when it comes to their ability to rationalize. And it may turn out that you're right and Fíli is the more rational of the two but we can't be sure yet. And even if he is, it alright. They're each different and Fíli is the sweeter and more sensitive of the two at the moment but he's quiet about it. Kíli is a bit more outspoken and will tell you what he wants but Fíli . . . you've hurt him, Thorin. He'll never come to you and confront you about it like Kíli would, he respects you too much for that, but you've hurt him all the same. And you need to make it up to him. "

"I don't even know what I _did_ , Dís," he protested.

"Neither do I," she replied. "Not entirely. But it apparently started yesterday and continued today. I _heard_ you today, Thorin. When you spoke to Kíli you sounded normal but when Fíli had your attention . . . it sounded forced, tense. I can understand why he thinks you're mad at him. Are you?"

"No!" Thorin snapped. "Why would I be? He's done nothing wrong."

"He thinks he has," Dís replied. "Maybe you should let him know he hasn't. Did you know that he went to class today _just_ because he knew you wanted him to? He wants it because he knows that you want him to want it. I didn't confront him about it but I do think that you need to make it clear to him that you are proud of him regardless of whether or not he goes to lessons. All that boy _wants_ is to make you happy."

"I am happy," Thorin replied shocked by that revelation. "He couldn't do anything to change that. He . . . I am proud of him."

"Then _show_ him." Dís sighed. At Thorin's troubled expression, she shook her head and continued, "It's not like I'm asking you to make a grand gesture of your love and pride, Thorin. All I ask is that you behave the same around him as you do around Kíli. Or . . . or do something nice just for him. It doesn't even have to be a big thing, just something especially for _Fíli._ Not something for them both that he just gets to tag along on. I-I don't know. Just . . . just show him that you love him as much as you do Kíli. Please. My heart can't take seeing him so upset. Not by you."

"Alright," Thorin said. "I'll do something nice just for Fíli before I have to go back to work. I'm sorry, Dís. I didn't mean to upset him." He opened his arms to his sister and she walked into them, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I know, Thorin, I know," she whispered. "I know that you love them both. But Fíli's just a child and he's always been so eager to please and worried he failed. Just . . . don't give him cause to think you're angry with him if you're not, please?"

"I won't," Thorin replied. "I'm sorry that I did." Dís nodded and they stood there in silence for a moment before she spoke once more.

"I'm sorry I struck you," she whispered.

"I'll daresay I deserved it," Thorin replied pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll just have to make up a better story to explain the bruise. Perhaps a bar fight. Yes . . . three on one, humans. That should do it. Can't have the people knowing that their king was beaten by his sister." Dís laughed and pulled away swatting his arm.

"That wasn't a beating, it was a slap," Dís replied dancing out of the way of his return swat. "But, Thorin, if we have to have this conversation again there will be a beating. You will have to make up an entire _army_ of humans to save your reputation once I'm done with you."

"Understood," Thorin replied. "We won't be having this conversation again, Sister." She nodded and took him at his word. Thorin would watch his behavior around Fíli and she would have no cause to kill her only brother. 


	12. Never Speak of This Again

A few hours later, Dís was sitting nervously at their table. It was really too early to begin dinner and she had already cleaned everything in the home until it nearly squeaked under her cloth. She was only sitting because Thorin had threatened, playfully, to tie her to the chair if she couldn't sit still on her own. He had laughed as he wondered if Balin had had to make the same threat to Kíli.

Dís hadn't found it the least bit amusing and had sat down with a huff saying, "If he threatened my baby I will tie _him_ to a chair. And it won't just be for lessons." Thorin had wanted to laugh again but stopped at the nearly murderous glint in her eyes, his still tender cheek reminding him that while his sister was not a violent person any threat to her children seemed to bring it out in her. He halfway reconsidered the tradition of dwarowdams not fighting—if _half_ of them were as vicious as his sister they would be more than formidable—before he stopped that line of thinking. War was no place for women. No matter how ferocious they were. His sister didn't need the memories that he, and all that had seen battle, carried. No. Things should remain as they were.

He jerked as she placed a hand on his arm. From the smirk on her face she had asked him a question. He briefly considered trying to answer without admitting that he hadn't heard her, but quickly rejected it. It never did to agree to something that he wasn't sure what he was agreeing to.

"I'm sorry, Dís," he said. "What did you say?" Her smirk only intensified.

"I said, do you think we should go rescue Balin from my little terrors?" Dís repeated, her brown eyes showing just how much she wanted him to say yes.

"I suppose he's had to endure them long enough," Thorin said climbing to his feet. "If I'd just left Fíli I'd say let Balin suffer a bit longer but . . ."

"Kíli can be a bit much, can't he?" Dís said with a laugh as she grabbed her cloak and headed for the door. "Are you coming?"

"I think I'll stay here," Thorin replied shaking his head. "I need to wait until tomorrow to go out at any rate. I can't have made it to a tavern and gotten in a fight since I dropped the lads off this morning, now can I?" Dís gave a sad laugh.

"I really am sorry about hitting you," she said. "I . . . I don't quite know what came over me."

" Don't worry about it, Dís," Thorin said standing and pulling her into another hug."I do not blame you. As I said, I deserved it. If I ever do anything like this again I will take whatever beating you feel like doling out. I truly do love the boys, Sister. I . . . I'm just no good . . ."

"You're fine with Kíli," Dís reminded him. "It's not that you're not good at this. You just need to find common ground with Fíli. I'm sure that you can. He really is an easy child to love, Thorin. And he's quite forgiving, as you once reminded me. He loves you. Apologize to him and do something kind for him and he will forget this ever happened. Trust me." Thorin nodded and freed her, nudging her towards the door.

"Go rescue our poor cousin," Thorin said, his voice a bit huskier than normal. "They may have already tied him to his chair themselves and he may be begging for mercy by now."

"Oh!" she scoffed swatting him before heading out the door at a very brisk walk to collect her children. The path through the market did not clear for her as it had for Thorin earlier but it was of little consequence. She wove between dwarves with a precision born of long practice and made it to Balin's office in next to no time. Despite wanting to charge right in and scoop her children into her arms and lay into Balin for allowing Kíli to stay, she paused outside the open door.

"No, laddie," she heard Balin say gently. "Not like that. Here, hold it more like _this_. Now try again." She poked her head around the door to see Balin standing over Kíli's shoulder and watching as her youngest held a quill in his tiny hand. She had to muffle a laugh at the look of intense concentration on his face and the way his tongue was poking out the corner of his mouth as he forced his hand to move along the vellum.

Balin caught the sound and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. She shook her head and held her finger up to her lips to tell him to remain silent. She wanted to let Kíli and Fíli finish what they were doing, though she couldn't see her eldest from her position. Then, Balin's attention was pulled from her by a triumphant noise from Kíli. She saw the hope in his bright eyes as he looked up at Balin and her cousin's smile.

"Very good, lad," Balin praised. "Why don't you show it to your mother."

"Mama?" Kíli asked.

"She's at the door," Balin said. Dís smiled and stepped fully into the doorway, having just enough time to kneel before Kíli was flinging himself at her.

"I missed you," he said nuzzling her neck while she stroked his hair. She rubbed her own cheek on the top of his head, taking in the smell of clean dwarfling, as she knew that once she got him home he and Fíli would begin to play and that smell would disappear.

"It was only a couple of hours, Kíli," Dís said with a laugh pulling back to look at him. "Surely you can't have missed me yet."

"Does that mean you didn't miss me?" Kíli asked, his lower lip beginning to quiver.

"Of course not, you silly thing!" she said pulling him back against her and standing before sitting in the chair that Kíli had vacated and settling him in her lap. "Now, what was it that Balin told you to show me."

"I did it!" he said proudly, pressing the piece of vellum into her hands. She looked at it and saw that there, in careful, halting childish runes was his name. The sight of it made her smile but also made her a bit sad. Her baby was writing his own name.

"Do you know what it means?" she asked gently. She halfway hoped that he would say no. It was possible that he had just copied what Balin had written up above. Maybe Kíli was just duplicating without understanding what he had done. Her hopes were dashed when Kíli nodded eagerly, his braids flopping in his enthusiasm.

"It means me," he chirped.

"That it does," she said, trying to modulate her voice. "And it's well done, Kíli." She turned to find her eldest, surprised that he wasn't over in her lap as well, eager to show her what he had done that day. She saw him bent over his place at a table with a look of frustration on his face. With a sigh, she stood and set Kíli in the chair and pushed it back towards the desk.

"See if you can get Balin to show you something else," Dís said, explaining with her eyes that she was going to see to Fíli.

"Will you, Mr. Balin?" Kíli asked brightly.

"Of course, laddie," Balin said coming to stand behind Kíli and picking up the quill. "I know just the thing." As Balin began showing Kíli a new word, Dís walked over and wrapped her arms around Fíli, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before resting her chin there.

As soon as she had walked up, he had covered his paper with his arms and she could tell from his breathing that he was near tears. Dís felt tears prickle her own eyes at Fíli's sadness. She wondered if Thorin had upset him again before he was dropped off.

"I missed you today, Fíli," she said quietly. "Did you have a good time?" He nodded and sniffled. "Then why do you seem so upset, Darling?" He shook his head, unwilling to admit to his mother that he was failing miserably at this schooling thing. His uncle had been wrong. Fíli couldn't do this.

"You can tell me, Fíli," she promised.

"Can't," he muttered. "You'll be ashamed of me."

"Never," she promised. "I love you. Nothing can change that. Why are you upset?"

"I'm no good at this," Fíli replied. Hearing the same words, said in the same tone, from her son that she had heard from her broken brother only moments before was like a hot poker to her heart. Fíli was far too young to be so morose. Especially when it was just his first day. She could still remember how her first day had gone and judging by the state of the room this had been quite a bit better. She had been a bit of a brat when she was a child.

"I'm sure that's not true," Dís said, stroking his hair gently. "What makes you say that, sweetheart?" Fíli took a couple of deep breaths before he hastily shoved the vellum out from under him and buried his face in his arms.

"Look," he sobbed. "It . . . it's no good!" She looked at what he had trust at her with a critical eye. She couldn't see why he was so upset by this. The words were legible. Clear, neat. True, the hand was a bit unsure in places and there were a few smears and ink spots that weren't meant to be there, but it was a beautiful first effort. Miles better than her own had been.

"Fíli, this is wonderful, Son," she said pressing another kiss to his head.

"No it's not," he muttered. "It's horrible. Looks nothing like the one Mr. Balin gave me to look at."

"It shouldn't," she replied honestly. "Balin has been writing for longer than you have been alive, Fíli. How many times have you held a quill?"

"I don't know," he replied miserably.

"How many days?" she asked going for something a bit easier. Usually that last question was one that Fíli could have answered. Thorin was correct in saying that her son was intelligent, but clearly he was too upset by his perceived failure to answer it now.

"One," he replied looking up at her with sad blue eyes, the beginnings of hope in their sapphire depths.

"One, "she agreed. "You cannot expect to write as well as someone with a lifetime of practice, Fíli. The more you write the better you will become. It is like anything in the world, Fíli. It takes _time_ to develop skills. And you have all the time in the world, my precious son. This is a skill that can wait. If it frustrates you too much . . ."

"No, Mother," Fíli said. "I . . .I _want_ to learn. I want to be better." Dís nodded sadly. She would not discourage him from trying but she would continually remind him that this was his decision and no one else's.

"Are you ready to head back?" she asked petting his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, clearly sleepy. She hoped he wasn't too sleepy. Both he and Kíli might be a bit much for her to carry and Kíli was sure to be fussy about being made to walk. It was well past his usual nap time.

 "Come on," she said lifting him and placing him on her hip, realizing as she did that she wouldn't be able to do this much longer. He was getting too big. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"Did I really do well, Mother?" he whispered. She smiled and rested her cheek on his head.

"You did wonderfully, darling," she replied. He gave a contented hum and snuggled deeper into her neck just as Kíli gave an excited squeal.

"Kíli!" she said, wincing at the shrillness of the noise. "Surely that's not necessary, dear."

"I don't mind, Dís," Balin replied with a laugh. "Your little one  sure is energetic."

"That's one word for it," she muttered with a wry smile. "Come, let's get you home. I'm sure your uncle will _love_ to see what the two of you learned today." Kíli beamed at the prospect of showing Thorin what Balin had taught him and eagerly took her hand to be led out the door, practically bouncing.

"Um, Dís," Balin said as she was almost out the door. She stopped and turned back to see him looking at her anxiously. "Can I talk to you for a moment. Alone?" She nodded and sat Fíli down, kneeling to place a hand on both of their faces.

"There's an empty room next door," she said simply. "Go in there and wait for me. You can play if you'd like but do it _gently_ and don't break anything." They nodded their understanding and walked out of the room. She waited until she heard the neighboring door close before she turned back to Balin.

"Sit, Dís," he said gesturing to Kíli's chair. She sat, wondering what her cousin could possibly want.

"Ale?" he asked filling a mug for himself and offering her one. She shook her head and he sat down across from her with a sigh.

"Dís, this is none of my business, not really," Balin began, "but is everything alright at home?"

"What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly. It was one thing if she knew that her son and brother were having difficulties but for Balin to know it. . .

"Fíli," Balin said. "I didn't notice it yesterday when the lads were playing together but today . . . he's much too quiet and serious for a dwarfling his age. He grew so easily frustrated when he did not grasp things immediately. and Kíli . . . he seemed content with whatever he could manage. I understand that there are differences in children but . . . I don't think it can account for _this_  much variation. Not that I'm saying that you are mistreating Fíli," he added quickly seeing her dark stare. "I can tell that you aren't from how he interacts with you but . . . " Balin trailed off uncomfortably. He had come as close to the issue as he would. He had debated talking to her about this at all and refused to go as far as to accuse Thorin of harming the little ones. If he made the accusation and it was false . . . well, when word of it reached Thorin even their kinship would not spare him the king's rage. Children were a gift from the maker, to harm one . . . it was an affront to Mahal himself.

"Thorin's never put a hand on him," Dís said aggressively. "Not like you're implying. Thorin _loves_ _both_ of my children. And of course Fíli's more serious than Kíli. Kíli's never known loss. Not of _any_ kind. Fíli has. In case you've forgotten, Fíli was _there_ the night Víli died. He _heard_ his father's screams of pain as he slowly died. Kíli didn't have that experience. In fact, I think he thinks Thorin _is_ his father. But Fíli . . . he's _never_ believed that what he does is good enough. Never. And he's always been terrified of failure. We've tried to tell him that it's alright but . . . just . . . just be gentle with him. He needs reassurance, praise. He's just a bit insecure."

"If you're certain," Balin said, his expression making his skepticism clear. "You do know that—"

"Just stop," Dís said sharply. "I would know, Balin. I bathe them. If Fíli was being injured I would know. Thorin has _never_ laid a hand on him that way and he never will. So you just put that thought out of your head."

"Alright, Dís," Balin said, nodding and offering her a small smile. "I thought that was the case, I just had to make sure."

"Do you honestly think that I would allow something like that to happen?" Dís asked seriously. "When just last night you took an axe from me to keep me from killing him over sending them to _school_?"

"I just had to be sure, Dís," Balin repeated. "I'd . . . um . . . I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this conversation to Thorin, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she replied. "He would be _devastated_ that you could think so little of him. I would never do anything to hurt him like that. Not when it will _never_ happen again." He heard the hint of threat in her final words and was reminded again that she was his king's sister and had the same regal blood in her veins as he did. Dís didn't often radiate power like Thorin did but when she did, it was quite impressive.

"It will not happen again, Dís. I swear it," Balin promised. "I won't accuse Thorin of harming your son again. Even indirectly." She nodded, satisfied and the hardness faded to be replaced by a warm smile.

"In that case, I'll take my boys home," she said standing. "Thank you again for putting up with them."

"They are welcome here any day they would like to come," Balin assured her as he walked her to the door and closed it behind her.

"You may regret that," she said with a laugh before walking away and collecting her children from the next room over. Balin watched until she came out with Kíli on one hip and Fíli on the other.

"Would you like a bit of help?" he offered. "I can carry one of them." Dís shook her head, still angry with her cousin for what he had implied about her brother and feeling unreasonably reluctant to hand him one of her sons, needing to hold them to reassure herself. He nodded and watched until she had passed through the front door before he turned and went back to his study and straightened up from their lessons. He wondered if he would be seeing them the next day.


	13. "Soup" and Broken Quills

Thorin was sitting on the porch smoking a pipe when Dís came staggering through the gate and into the yard. It was clear to him from the set of her jaw that the only thing keeping her going was sheer will power. It was clear that the boys' combined weight was too much for her. He shook his head at her affectionately. He couldn't fathom what had made her think it was a good idea to attempt to carry them both. Even he would have balked at the idea.

With a sigh, he set aside his pipe and stood to relieve his sister of one of her children and lighten her burden. Without conscious thought, his hands reached for Kíli where the child was burrowed into his mother's neck, one tiny fist around her braid and the other across her chest to grip Fíli's.

"No," Dís panted turning slightly so that her brother's grasping hands touched her eldest. "Take Fíli. He's heavier and I'm afraid that I'm going to drop him." Thorin had a brief flare of suspicion go through him as he wondered if this was an attempt by his sister to get him to show affection to Fíli but tamped it down and took his sleeping blonde nephew from Dís, pausing with him between them for Dís to remove his braid from Kíli's hand. Fíli moaned quietly at the transfer, but as Thorin pulled him against his own chest, the child sighed contentedly and nuzzled the shoulder under his cheek. 

Dís watched as Thorin raised his hand with a somewhat bemused expression and ran it along Fíli's cheek. She saw the way his eyes softened as her son leaned into the contact and couldn't help a small smile of her own. Even though she hadn't doubted it, she was glad that she had talked some sense into Balin. She knew that her brother loved her son, Balin's worries were unfounded. She felt her smile fall a bit when Thorin's hand faltered at the edge of Fíli's hair before skipping over it entirely and coming to rest in the small of his back.

"Let's—" she cut herself off and cleared her throat to modulate her voice before she continued, "Let's get them to bed. I . . . I know you didn't cook while I was gone."

"I did so!" he argued shooting her a mock glare, unsure what had caused the emotion in her voice and knowing that she would tell him if he was ready. "Lunch is ready. If you wake them, they can eat right this moment."

She snorted to show her disbelief that her brother had cooked anything even remotely edible but, rather than challenge him on the matter simply said, "Do _you_ want to be the one to wake them?" Thorin said nothing in response, but merely turned and carried Fíli into the house. Dís followed him, a smirk on her face  as she wondered what their people would think of the great Thorin Oakenshield if they knew that he was afraid of waking two little dwarflings.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin hadn't lied when he said that he had cooked. After the boys were tucked into their bed to nap, Kíli melting right back into Fíli the moment they were both laid down, Dís walked into the kitchen to see that Thorin had in fact cooked supper, if the pot steaming on the hearth was anything to go by. Curious as to what he had made, she lifted the lid only to replace it with a laugh.

"Just mutton?" she asked turning to look at her brother, who was leaning against the table and looking far too pleased with himself. "No potatoes, no vegetables. Just mutton? Did you even bother to put any seasonings in?"

"Of course!" he retorted. "I'm not a barbarian! There is mutton, seasonings and water. That's all a stew needs."

"Stew!?" she scoffed. "This isn't stew, Thorin! It's boiled meat! Not that there's anything wrong with boiled meat but . . . what do you intend us to eat _with_ it?"

"Meat," he replied simply. "Meat is food, Dís. It doesn't need anything to go with it." She sighed and shook her head with an indulgent laugh before walking into the pantry and returning with some potatoes and carrots to go into the 'stew.'

"What are you doing, Sister?" Thorin asked as she lobbed a barrage of potatoes at him with the command to "peel those"

"Fixing your mistake, like always," Dís shot over her shoulder as she set to peeling a carrot.

"There is no mistake," Thorin countered as he retrieved a knife and roughly peeled the potatoes before cutting them. "I made what I meant to make. Mutton stew." He couldn't hide his smirk when Dís exhaled slowly, clearly trying to rein in her temper.

"Stew, Thorin, requires more than one ingredient," she explained in the same tone she used when Kíli was being a nuisance and asking foolish questions. " _That_ ," she turned, gesturing at the pot with her knife for emphasis, "is _not_ stew. It's boiled mutton. If you intended to make boiled mutton you succeeded. If you wanted stew, I have to fix it."

"But Dís," Thorin protested with a smirk, "there is more than one ingredient in the pot."

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at her brother incredulously. "What other ingredient is in there?"

"Seasonings," he said brightly, dodging the carrot stem that she threw at him with a laugh and dumping his cut potatoes into the pot with a sigh. "Ruining good stew, Dís," he said shaking his head in mock sadness.

"Oh!" she scoffed, swatting his arm as she added the carrots. "Just go away. You clearly know nothing about cooking so get out and let me do it."

"But, Sister," Thorin replied mock hurt in his tone, "I just want to make sure you don't ruin my perfect stew."

"Out!" she said with a laugh. "Go take a bath before the boys wake up. You're a horrible example to them. How long has it been? Two, three days?"

"I don't know," Thorin lied, he knew that he had bathed the day before but just wanted to ruffle her feathers a bit. "Less than a week, I believe. No more than a month at any rate. I think I'll still be good for another fortnight."

"Out!" she laughed, pushing him towards the door. "If you insist on behaving like a dwarfling I'll treat you like one. Take a bath before the boys wake up or there'll be no dinner for you. I won't have the ripe smell of unwashed dwarf putting my children off their food."

"That's cheating, Dís," Thorin countered before walking out the door and heading towards the bathroom. "Besides," he called just before he shut the door, "how long has it been since _you've_ bathed? Perhaps the ripe smell you detect is _you_ , Sister dear!" He heard her indignant shriek from through the door and was immediately thankful that he had thought to put a lock on that door. Even knowing that he was naked wouldn't keep Dís out if she truly wanted a word. With a laugh, he set himself to the task of drawing a bath, thankful again that he had thought to have water piped into the room so he didn't have to traipse through the house and tempt Dís' wrath.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually the boys woke up on their own. By that time, Dís had repaired Thorin's error with the stew and Thorin had finished his bath—Dís taking one as soon as he had cleared out as she couldn't swear when the last time she'd had one was, even though she refused to admit this to her brother. So when the boys awoke, it was to freshly bathed adults sitting in the dining room playing a card game at the table.

"You're cheating again, Dís," Thorin was saying as Fíli and Kíli walked into the room. He didn't see them, as his back was to the door, but Dís did. Including the shock on their faces that their beloved uncle would accuse their mother of cheating.

"You only say that because you're losing, Brother," Dís countered. "And at any rate, I don't cheat. Do I boys?" Thorin turned in time to see Kíli looking at him with wide brown eyes as he shook his head.

"Mama doesn't cheat, Uncle," Kíli said, creeping forward to crawl into Thorin's lap while Fíli moved more calmly to sit beside his mother, who moved him into her own lap with a smile.

"Only at cards, little one," Thorin corrected with a laugh ruffling his hair. "And your mother has cheated at cards her entire life. Especially when she plays against me."

"Maybe if you were a more graceful winner I wouldn't have to," Dís retorted with a smile. "And I don't cheat, Thorin. I simply make it so that the odds are more in my favor."

"But Mother . . . " Fíli began cautiously. "Is. . . isn't that cheating?"

"Oh I suppose it is," Dís said with a laugh petting Fíli's cheek with her free hand. "However, you lose a few games to your uncle and listen to him gloat about it for _days_ and then tell me you wouldn't do the same."

"Uncle doesn't gl. . . gloat," Kíli said trying out the new word. He wasn't sure what it meant but he knew from the way his mother had said it that it wasn't good and he knew that his uncle could never do anything _bad_.

"He used to," Dís said with a sad smile. Kíli was right, other than their bit of banter that day, it had been too long since Thorin had done anything quite like that.

"I did not," Thorin replied indignantly. "I never gloated. I just reminded you that I had won."

"That's gloating, Brother," Dís said, her brown eyes dancing with amusement. "But enough of this. I'll bet you boys are hungry, aren't you?" She smiled as they nodded enthusiastically before moving Fíli back to the chair he had originally sat in and standing to fetch food.

"You boys show your uncle what Balin taught you today and I'll dish up the stew that I rescued from Thorin's cooking," she said smirking at her brother before sliding a quill and parchment towards Kíli and Thorin. She saw the flash of irritation in his blue eyes as she did, but he quickly became absorbed in watching her youngest try to hold the quill that was far too large for his tiny hands.

Thorin watched in amazement as Kíli's little fingers wrapped deftly around the quill, the stem far too large to be comfortable but him managing it all the same, before he dipped into the ink well and carefully wrote his own name in halting runes. When his name was complete, Thorin had to smile. It was legible.

"That's fine work, little one," he said softly. "Do you know what it says?" He watched as his nephew nodded before redipping the quill and putting it to the parchment again.

"It says me," he replied. "It says Kíli and that means me." Thorin nodded and watched again as his youngest nephew continued to write. As the words continued to form, Thorin felt his eyes go wide in wonder. It wasn't perfect, a couple of the remaining runes were missing lines but the message was still clear, despite the errors.

"Kíli," he breathed. "Do . . . do you know what you've written, lad?" He met his nephew's innocent brown eyes as Kíli turned to face him and nodded.

"Mr. Balin showed it to me," Kíli said. "It . . . It says 'Kíli loves Uncle Thorin'. Mother asked him to show me something else and this was what he showed me. Do . . . do you like it?" Thorin had to swallow before he could answer. He knew that Kíli had been prompted to write it, but seeing what he already knew in clear, if flawed, runes . . . it was nearly too much for him. He knew that he didn't deserve the pure love that he could see burning in that child's eyes. But even if he didn't deserve it, it was his and it would be cruel to reject such a gift.

"I love it," he promised before pressing a kiss to Kíli's forehead. "Thank you, Kíli." He took a moment to compose himself before he turned to Fíli.

"What did you learn today, lad?" Thorin asked, his tone still gentle from the gesture Kíli had just made.

"I . . . nothing worth sharing, Uncle," Fíli said looking down. "I . . . I tried but . . . it wasn't any good. I couldn't even add and when I tried to write . . . it was all spotty and smeared. It . . . I'm sorry. I failed."

"What do you mean you couldn't add?" Thorin asked quietly. Fíli was the brightest dwarfling he had ever seen. It made no sense that he would fail at school. Surely the lad was being too hard on himself.

"It . . . it just makes no _sense_ ," Fíli said, looking at Thorin desperately, his small chest heaving. "I . . . I _tried_ but . . ."

"Fíli," Thorin said sternly as he tried to break through Fíli's panic. "Calm down, lad. I don't expect you to learn everything there is to know in one day. Now," he continued in a more gentle tone since the boy was no longer at risk for hyperventilation, "I'm sure you did _something_ you can show me, or tell me. So show me."

Fíli nodded, his blue eyes tortured as he stood and came around the table to stand beside his uncle and brother. He took a deep breath before taking the quill from Kíli's hand and dipping it into the inkwell. He felt shame well within him as his hand quivered over the paper. He knew that he couldn't do this. Not with his uncle watching and not when he was already cross with him. He couldn't fail, but he was going to. He felt determination wash through him and when he put the nib to the parchment it was with a bit more force than necessary and the quill broke with a loud snap, splattering ink all over the paper.

"See," Fíli whispered, looking up at his uncle with tears in his eyes. "I told you I can't do it. And . . . and now I've broken it." Before Thorin could say a word, Fíli had turned and fled the room. Kíli squirmed to go after his brother, but Thorin was too shocked to realize what the squirming meant. Thorin heard Dís sigh as she set two bowls on the table and looked away from the door to see infinite sadness in her face.

"You two eat," she said quietly. "I . . . I'll go try to—" she cut off in a sigh, unsure just what she could do for her son at the moment. Clearly Fíli didn't believe her assessment of the situation.

"No," Thorin said, standing before passing Kíli to his mother and heading for the door. "I'll go. I'll talk to him." Dís was of two minds as she watched her brother walk out of the room after her son. The first was that this might just be the gesture that Fíli needed; the second was that she hoped Thorin was up to making it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay. I can't promise that it won't happen again, but the next chapter for this one is mostly written. I hope it was worth the wait!


	14. Attempted Comfort, Painful Memories and Apple Pie

Fíli threw himself on his and Kíli's bed doing everything in his power to stop the tears that he could feel pooling in his eyes from falling. He failed. As that first traitorous tear rolled down his cheek, a sob forced its way up his throat.  He buried his face in the pillow in a vain attempt to muffle the sound so that no one else would hear. It was bad enough that they knew that he had failed. That his mother had seen his _pathetic_ attempts that afternoon. That he had failed so miserable in front of his uncle that he broke the quill. The last thing he needed was for them to know that he was weeping like a babe.

Rather than convince him to stop, that thought only caused his tears and sobs to intensify. It only solidified his belief that he was a failure. He couldn't even control himself. What kind of a dwarf was he? As his thoughts continue to spiral, his misery only grew. By the time Thorin entered the room, Fíli had worked himself up to the point that he didn't hear his uncle's knock or the door opening. Thorin's presence wasn't noticed until he placed a hand in the middle of Fíli's heaving back.

"Hush," Thorin whispered stroking his nephew gently as he wondered if Dís hadn't been right about it being too soon for Fíli to go to school. "It's alright. Hush now." He was shocked when his words had the opposite effect. Rather than quiet, Fíli's sobs only grew louder.

"Fíli," Thorin breathed shocked that _Fíli_  was the one doing this. From Kíli he could have seen it but _Fíli_? Even as young as he was he was remarkably well-controlled. He couldn't ever remember seeing his eldest nephew cry like this. The closest time was when he had fallen from the tree, but then he had been injured. Not so now. Thorin couldn't make sense of it.

"It . . . it was only a quill, lad," Thorin offered. Even though that answer made little sense it was the only explanation he could come up with. "There are others. It . . . it was nothing special. Hush now."

"Please," Fíli whispered miserably between sobs. "Please just leave me here. I . . ." he trailed off into another series of sobs. With a sigh, Thorin sat on the edge of the bed. He debated with himself for a moment before reaching out and lifting his distraught nephew into his lap.

Despite his shame at crying in front of his uncle, Fíli lost no time in burying his face in Thorin's shoulder, clinging to his shirt and taking the comfort that was being offered. Automatically, Thorin's hand came up to stroke Fíli's hair, stopping just before touching it. Remembering his promise to Dís, Thorin pushed down his own discomfort and brushed along the blonde strands, thinking of the times that he had seen Fíli calm when Dís petted him in such a way.

 It was gentle at first, the touch barely there and for a moment Fíli wondered if he half-imagined it but then the pressure grew and there was no denying it any longer. His uncle was petting him, just as he did Kíli. His shock at the touch caused his tears to stop as he tried to understand _why_ his uncle would be stroking his head. He'd done nothing to deserve it. He'd failed at school and broken his uncle's quill and was crying. If anything, his uncle should have been walking out of the room in disgust, not attempting to comfort him.

Thorin was equally as shocked. Despite his sister's words about the texture, he had still expected Fíli's hair to feel more like Kíli's— more like Dís'—but it didn't. It was thicker than either of theirs. More like Thorin's own hair, though so much softer and finer with youth that there was no real comparison to be made. Even so, it felt familiar.  Suddenly an image came to his mind: one of his brother from when they were children

**ooOO88OOoo**

_They were sitting cross-legged on the floor in their mother's room in Erebor, Thorin attempting to braid Frerin's hair, while their mother rocked a newborn Dís in a chair, trying to get her to sleep. Having finished the braid, Thorin tied it off before realizing that not only were the strands uneven, the braid was crooked. With a grunt of disgust, he untied it and began undoing his flawed work. He must have been too rough about it because Frenin's hand was suddenly there, swatting his own away._

_"Ow!" he complained. "Why do you always **pull** , Thorin!? There's no need for that. Mother never pulls."_

_"Yes," Thorin groused, reaching for his brother's hair again. "But Mother has had more practice. How do you expect me to learn if you never let me try?"_

_"You have hair, don't you?" Frerin retorted. "Braid your own! I'm done having you pull mine."_

_"Mother?" Thorin said turning to her, begging with his eyes for her to side with him._

_"I won't make him let you braid his hair, Thorin," she said with a laugh. "If he doesn't want you to touch it, I won't force him to let you. You'll just have to ask nicely." It was everything that she could do to hide her laughter at the petulant look on her son's face._

_"Will you let me practice braiding on your hair?" Thorin asked, a scowl marring his features at being forced to ask permission from his sibling._

_"No," Frerin replied simply._

_"But . . . Mother!" Thorin said. "I asked nicely!"_

_"You did," she agreed, "and he said no. Now leave him be. When he wants to let you, he will invite you to do it. Won't you, Frerin?"_

_"Yes, Mother," Frerin replied nodding enthusiastically before shooting a cheeky grin at his older brother. "But I'm not ever going to want to let him. He pulls too much."_

**ooOO88OOoo**

That had been a lie. After they had lost their mother to Smaug, Frerin had often asked Thorin to do his hair. And he never once complained that Thorin pulled, though he knew that he still had to have. It wasn't as if he had gotten much practice before the dragon came though he got more than enough of it afterwards. With his eyes closed, he almost wasn't sure if it was Fíli or Frenin whose hair was under his fingers. They felt so similar. He could still remember how last time he had touched his brother's hair it had still been as soft as it had been when they were children. He could remember how it had slid between his fingers like silk as he placed a braid in the back to keep it out of his face in the battle the next day. That had only been moments before their falling out. His last act of kindness before betrayal. Just as he was about to lose himself to the memories of that night, a small voice pulled him back.

"Uncle?" Fíli asked, the tone still watery and hesitant despite him having calmed significantly.

"What?" Thorin asked, his voice harsher than he meant it to be due to his own pain. He regretted it as he saw Fíli flinch but he didn't apologize.

"I . . . I just wanted to say that I am sorry about your quill," Fíli said, looking away. "I . . . I didn't mean to break it."

"I know," Thorin said. "And as I said, it was nothing special. I have more. Now, come. Your mother will be worried." Fíli nodded and wiped his eyes on the hem of his tunic before pausing and looking at his uncle expectantly. Fíli could still remember how warm he had been the last time this had happened and was waiting for it to continue.

"What are you waiting for?" Thorin asked nudging his nephew gently off his lap and towards the door. "Go on."

"Are . . . aren't you coming?" Fíli asked quietly.

"No," Thorin said simply. "Tell your mother that I'm not particularly hungry tonight. However, I am tired.  I'm going to go to bed."

"Alright," Fíli said turning and walking to the door. He stopped just outside and turned back to see his uncle still sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. It almost looked like his shoulders were shaking but that was impossible. His uncle didn't cry. Fíli said nothing but simply turned and walked into the dining room.

Though it worried Dís to only see Fíli walking into the room, she forced a smile onto her face. While it was clear that her son had been crying, he was not longer weeping and that was a good sign, even if he did still look too sad for her to be overly comforted by his lack of tears.

"Come, Darling," Dís said, wincing a bit at the forced brightness in her own voice as she stood to get a bowl for her eldest. "Eat. Growing dwarflings need food, after all."

"Yes, Mother," Fíli replied woodenly as he sat in his seat, staring dejectedly at the table. Dís sighed at his tone as she put the bowl on the table before bushing a stray lock of hair out of Fíli's eyes. He didn't even react to her touch. It was then that she _knew_ something was still wrong. And she would bet all the gold in Erebor that her brother was the cause of it. She felt guilt swirl within her that she had allowed Thorin to attempt this when she had known that he would fail. As hopeful as she had been, she knew that she shouldn't have placed her brother or her son in that position.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" she asked gently sitting beside him and continuing to pet him, watching as her son moved his stew around his bowl without ever moving a bite to his mouth. He shook his head and continued stirring his soup. She nodded, knowing that he would say nothing by that route of questioning. She would have to try something else if she wanted to know what happened between her son and brother.

"Where . . . where is your uncle, sweetheart?" she asked when it was clear that Thorin was not just taking longer to follow.

"Not coming," Fíli replied, his voice full of tears and his breathing beginning to speed once more.

"Not coming? Why?" Dís asked wondering just what had gotten into her brother's head this time. With a sigh she realized that she _had_ to know what had happened between them.

"Says he's not hungry," Fíli muttered refusing to look at her. "But I don't think . . . I don't think that's true. I . . . I think it's really because he's mad at me."

"What make you say that, Fíli?" she tried to keep her tone level but it was nearly impossible with the rage that was beginning to burn in her veins that her brother would have said that to her son. He was _supposed_ to have been comforting him, _not_ telling him that he was disappointed in a "failure". Even so, she knew that it wouldn't do to let Fíli know just how angry she was, not in his present state of mind. She knew that he would find some way to blame himself for her anger, just as he blamed himself for Thorin's stupidity.

Despite her best efforts to keep a level tone, Kíli had looked up from his food in shock when she spoke so she knew some of her anger must have bled through. She tried to shoot him a reassuring smile, but she could see from his expression that it fell flat as well. And if Kíli could sense her frustration . . . she only hoped that Fíli was still so wrapped up in his own head that he missed it.

"I cried on him," Fíli said simply. "He has to be mad. Or . . . that was when he seemed to . . . that has to be it, Mother. I shouldn't have cried on him."

"Darling, no," Dís breathed, shifting Fíli from his chair and into her lap. "You did nothing wrong, Fíli. It . . . it was a trying day, Son. There were so many changes it . . . it makes sense that you would—" she cut herself off trying in vain to think of a way to say what she meant without using the word 'overreact' as hearing that would do Fíli no good. With a sigh, she gave up and cradled him against her, stroking his hair and resting her cheek on his head.

"This was a difficult day for us all, my darling," she murmured into his hair. "For your uncle as well. Wait and see, tomorrow, after everyone has had a good night's rest, everything may be better. Try not to worry so. You're still so young. He won't fault you for a few tears, Fíli. Trust me." Fíli said nothing, but simply clung to the front of her dress. For a time, she sat there in silence, holding her son.

"Come now," she said eventually. "Dinner's getting cold."

"Not hungry," Fíli muttered refusing to budge.

"Is that so?" she asked. He nodded his head against her but said nothing. "Hm. Then I suppose you can just go to bed. However it would be a shame for you to miss out on dessert." He shifted slightly and looked at her with one red-ringed eye but still said nothing, not that it mattered; Kíli was more than willing to speak for them both.

"Dessert?" he chirped, his brown eyes wide and his entire body vibrating with barely contained energy at the idea of such a rare treat.

"Mmhm," Dís replied with a nod. "Pie."

"Cherry?" Kíli asked, beginning to squirm even more at the idea of cherry pie. They never got cherry pie and it was his favorite.

"Apple," Dís said offering Kíli a small smile of consolation before she glanced back down at Fíli. She had debated making cherry pie, as she knew that both Kíli and Thorin preferred it, but there were no cherries to be had. Not for a reasonable price anyway. But apples, they had been cheap enough that she hadn't felt guilty splurging on a pie. Especially not when it was the fruit that she and Fíli preferred.

"Apple?" Fíli asked, peeking up at her tentatively, a rogue tear clinging to his blond lashes. She nodded and he offered her a weak smile before maneuvering back into his own chair and eating his stew. Once she was certain that he wouldn't fall, she turned back to Kíli who was sulking a bit.

"I do hope you aren't too disappointed, Kíli," she said brushing a hand through his wild hair. Even though it had been braided before they went to school, it had managed to escape during the day and his nap so that even though you could still see the braids they were doing nothing to control it.

"No, Mama," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes before his face scrunched up in displeasure. "Even if it is _apple_ ," she shook her head fondly at how much that word sounded like a vulgarity from her youngest son, "it's still pie. I like pie."

"I'm glad that even the evils of apples can't discourage you," she said with a laugh as she bent to press a kiss to the crown of his head before walking into the pantry to retrieve her no-longer-secret gift  pretending for Fíli's sake that she couldn't feel the wet spot on her dress where his tears had soaked through. 


	15. Broken Dishes and Blank Eyes

Even though she wanted to go rail at her brother for what had clearly occurred with Fíli, Dís stayed with her children while they finished their food. Only once that was done and they began playing did she go to search for her brother and attempt to learn what his excuse was this time. Making sure that the children were occupied in the main room, she walked down the hall to Thorin's door. She was not the least bit surprised when her knock garnered no response.

"Thorin, I'm coming in," she warned before taking the knob in her hand and opening the door. She was also not surprised to see that he hadn't bothered to light a candle when he had come in. With a sigh, she crossed to his desk and picked up the flint to light the candle that was sitting there. Even if he didn't want it, a bit of light would do him good. It was only with the aid of the light that she realized that the lump on the bed that she had taken for her brother was actually nothing more than rumpled bedding. That did surprise her. She had been certain that he would be hiding here.

With a confused hum she blew out the light and replaced it on his desk before going once more in search of Thorin. When she had looked everywhere that she could think of, there was only one place left—as she hadn't heard the door open—and that was the boys' room. She poked her head around the door, halfway expecting not to find him there and felt herself jump a bit at the sight of him sitting on the edge of their bed staring at nothing.

She nearly wanted to sob as she thought through what might have happened in that room that evening. She knew from experience that Thorin was capable of saying quite cruel things when he was in one of these moods, the turmoil he felt pouring out of him before he could stop it. With Fíli already so delicate and insecure . . . she felt panic stir in her stomach over just what Thorin might have said to him. Her mind was already whirling as she tried to figure out a way to convince him that Thorin hadn't meant any of it without explaining their dark past and just how broken it had left Thorin to her child.

"Thorin?" she said, trying to keep her voice level. "Brother?"  He didn't stir at her voice. He showed no sign that he had heard her at all. "No," she muttered. It was rapidly growing clearer to her that this was one of the bad ones. The ones that sometimes took days to bring him back to himself and even then it could take weeks for him to be _normal_. She felt horrible for thinking it, but the only thought that she had was that this was _not_ an appropriate time for Thorin to do this and she couldn't help but resent him a bit for it. Her only consolation was that, thanks to the large job that had just been completed, Thorin had no need to leave the house for some time.

Pushing back her own feelings of frustration, Dís walked across the room and knelt before her brother, placing her hands on face. Normally, she wouldn't have done it. Startling her brother had never been a good plan and was less of one when he left her like this, but she knew from experience that he was so far gone within himself that a simple touch would never startle him. Not now.

"Thorin, I need you to look at me," she said, her tone firm and leaving no room for negotiation. "Hey, look at me." She wanted to look away as his unfocused gaze met hers but she held her ground. She had his attention, now she just needed to keep it.

"You need to get up," she said simply. He shook his head.

"No," he muttered. "Too tired."

"You have to," she said standing and taking his hands in hers."You can't sleep here. Come. I'll take you to your room. You can sleep there." This time he nodded, allowing her to guide him out the door and down the hall. As she did so, Dís prayed to the Maker that the boys would stay in the main room. This was the last thing Fíli—or Kíli for that matter—needed to see.

Thankfully they made it to his room without being seen. Once inside, she seated him on the bed and began the arduous process of removing the more cumbersome articles of his clothing before she allowed him to lay down. It was a sign of just how bad this turn was when he didn't even protest her handling him like a child or even bother to close his eyes or attempt to get under the blankets that were piled behind him. He didn't even try to arrange himself more comfortably, though she knew that was not how her brother usually slept.

He didn't resist her when she moved his limbs into a more comfortable position. He didn't even look at her. Not wanting him to be cold, Dís covered her brother, tucking him in gently before stroking his hair in an attempt to get him to look at her once more. As disturbing as the emptiness in his eyes was, the passivity and apathy was worse.

"Thorin?" Her smile when he looked at her was genuine, it was a good sign that he still looked at her when spoken to, he didn't always. "I need to check on the boys," she said. "I'll be back later." He didn't respond and his eyes shifted away from hers but she knew that she had been heard.

"I'll be back," she repeated pressing a kiss to his forehead and standing to leave. "Do . . . do you want the candle lit?" There was no response, but then she had expected none. "I'm just going to light it," she said. "If it bothers you, just blow it out." She also knew that he wouldn't even if it did.

As soon as his door closed behind her, she fisted her hands in her hair and drew a shuddering breath. She knew that it was wrong of her to be so frustrated with him over this, it was a common reaction to losing a loved one and they had both lost more than their fair share, but it had been so long since the loss. She felt resentment stir within her that Thorin thought that he got to fall apart over _nothing_ while she had to be the one there to pick up the pieces as well as keep herself intact for her boys. At the thought of her boys she tried to push down her emotions and get back to them before they came looking for her and found her like this. She bit back a curse as she realized that she had taken too long.

"Mother?" Fíli asked walking up to her and taking her hand, his brow wrinkling  as his clear blue eyes saw far more than she wanted to.

"I'm fine, Darling," she lied. "I just . . . Fíli, can you tell me what exactly you and your uncle spoke about this evening?"

"Nothing really," he answered. "I was crying and he came in and . . . the only thing that really got said was that I was sorry for breaking the quill."

"And what did your uncle say?" Dís pressed. There was no way that simply talking about a quill would drive Thorin to this. To her knowledge, none of his memories of their late family could have been triggered by a quill. That conversation didn't explain this. But there was no doubt in her mind that Fíli was being truthful.

"That it wasn't important and he wasn't mad," Fíli said. "Then he told me to go eat and that he wasn't hungry. Why?"

"I was just curious, Darling," Dís promised, petting his cheek in an attempt to wipe the confusion off his face. "Why don't you run along and play with Kíli? I'll be along shortly." Fíli nodded and did as she had instructed.

Dís stood beside Thorin's door until she was certain that Fíli was gone. Only then did she allow herself to sink to the floor with her head in her hands fighting back tears of her own. Not for the first time in her life she wished that fate had been kinder to her and her family. Also not for the first time, she wondered just what her ancestors had done to offend Mahal to the point that he would curse the line of Durin so. 

The sound of something breaking in the main room and the resulting squabble broke her from her dark thoughts. With a smirk she stood, wiping a hand across her face to remove the stray tears that had fallen before schooling her features into something resembling disapproval, even when all she wanted to do was smile. When she came around the corner it was to Fíli pinning his brother on the rug lecturing him about throwing things in the house. Though, as she looked around the room and saw the chaos her sons had wrought she wondered if being told no to throwing things indoors was the only lecture they needed.

"What happened here?" she asked, once more hiding a smirk as they both jumped at her unexpected arrival.

"We were playing and broke the dishes, " Fíli said just as Kíli squeaked, "nothing," and tried to squeeze out of his brother's grip once more.

"So it was a group effort, was it?" she asked, knowing from just how desperate her youngest was to escape that the answer would be a no. Kíli had done it and Fíli was just trying to take some of the blame. Fíli's gaze shifted, unwilling to lie to his mother and unwilling to tell on his brother. Kíli refused to look at her.

"Kíli," she said, kneeling down and gesturing at him with one finger to encourage him to come to her. He squeaked a bit but when Fíli released him he walked towards her, stopping just out of reach and looking up at her with repentant brown eyes through his messy bangs.

"Kíli, who broke the dishes?" Dís asked. "Did Fíli do it?" He said nothing, but shook his head, his embarrassment clear. "Did you?" He nodded.

"Didn't mean to," he muttered. "I was just playing and . . . they broke."

"And you did nothing to cause them to break?" she asked. He shifted uncomfortably and looked towards the dishes, where a ball was clearly visible amidst the wreckage.

"Are you supposed to throw things indoors, Kíli?"

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face as he tried to gage just how much trouble he was actually in. She didn't seem _particularly_ mad, but she also wasn't smiling.

"Can you tell me _why_ you are not allowed to throw things in the house?" Dís asked, knowing that Kíli knew the answer as he had heard it perhaps a million times, though this was the first time that er predictions had actually come true.

"'cause things get broked," Kíli muttered. "But I've done it before and nothing ever broke before."

"That's not the point, Kíli," she sighed. Trust Kíli to be the one to tell her that it was fine for him to break the rules as he had done it before and nothing bad had happened. "Something broke this time. Can you tell me why that's bad?"

"Because things cost money," Kíli said, looking at her sadly.

"Yes, things cost money," Dís agreed. "Now, go get ready for your bath. I'll clean up the mess and be along shortly."

"I . . . I can do it," Kíli offered. "I broked it. I'll clean it."

"No," she replied. "Just do as I said." While she was touched that Kíli was offering to clean up his mess, she didn't want to let him. The last thing she needed was him cutting himself, even if it would teach him a lesson. No, it would be better if she cleaned up the shards this time. Nodding sadly, Kíli began moving towards the door, Fíli right on his heels.

"Fíli," she called. "Stay with me, please." When Fíli stopped, Kíli stopped as well. "Not you," Dís said. "You go get ready for your bath." She felt a bit guilty at just how confused Kíli looked at being separated from Fíli but then she glanced at the broken dishes and felt her guilt evaporate. Alone time was just what her youngest needed. If Fíli went she knew that he would lecture Kíli and that would make him defensive but alone, perhaps his own conscience would do it for her.

"Go on, out with you," she said sharply. "When I get there, you'd better be ready to go into the tub." She left the threat hanging, knowing that his own imagination would come up with more interesting punishments than she ever could. She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up her throat as he squeaked again and sprinted down the hall to the bathroom. Not bothering to hide her smirk she turned to clean up the broken crockery.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Fíli muttered once his brother was gone.

"Why?" she asked. "Did _you_ throw the ball?"

"No, but—"

"Then I don't need your apology," Dís replied, turning to smile at him. "Kíli is old enough to be responsible for his own actions. If he chose to disobey that is not your fault. You can't be held responsible for everything Kíli does, Darling." Fíli nodded, looking unconvinced before coming over and trying to help her clean up.

"I have this under control, Fíli," she said brushing his hands aside. "It's just a little mess. I can clean it."

"Then why—"

"I wanted you to keep me company," Dís said. "I missed you and your brother today and would have kept Kíli as well but—"

"But he's in trouble," Fíli completed.

"Exactly," Dís replied with a smile. "However, neither you or I am so why should we be punished?" Fíli hummed and leaned against her side, still feeling a bit shaken over the way the day had played out and seeking comfort. Still smiling, she reached down and stroked his hair. It always amazed her just how perceptive her eldest was to what she actually needed from him. As he leaned into the touch, she realized that perhaps he had needed this closeness just as much as she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are all, a new update just in time for Christmas. I hope that ya'll enjoyed it. It's a bit shorter than normal, but if it didn't go up today it would be another week before it could. I'm going out of town this week and my internet access with be spotty at best. I hope any of you that travel this week have safe, uneventful journeys.


	16. Baths, an Ultimatum and a Ring

Eventually Dís decided that Kíli had suffered alone long enough and took Fíli's hand in her own and led him to the bathroom. She paused outside the door and listened to see what her youngest was up to and wasn't the least bit surprised to hear the sound of Kíli's laughter. She sighed as she realized that her plan hadn't worked. Kíli hadn't thought about what he'd done, he'd found something to entertain himself instead.

However, when she opened the door, she felt a shock go through her as a little naked blur launched himself at her knees, wrapping his arms around them and sobbing into her skirt.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, looking up at her with reddened eyes. "Please don't be mad. I really didn't mean to."

"Hush," she soothed picking him up and holding him against her, feeling guilty once more when she took in the way he trembled. "I'm not mad, Kíli."

"You-you're not?" he breathed.

"No," she said gently, beginning to run the water for his bath without setting him down. "I'm very disappointed in you but I'm not mad."

"I'm still sorry," Kíli offered. "Does  . . . do the plates mean that you and Uncle are going to have to go away?"

"What?!" she nearly choked on her own breath at such an absurd question. Why would a few plates meant that they would leave him? It wasn't like dwarflings were abandoned over broken dishes and she wondered just where he'd gotten such an idea.

"'cause they cost money," Kíli said sadly. "You and Uncle leave to make money. You're not going to leave us, are you?"

Dís laughed sadly at her son's logic. The connection made sense now that it had been explained but it made it no less depressing. "We're not going to leave," Dís promised. "At least not both of us. Your uncle may have to leave again, but, Kíli," she paused to lift his face so that she could see his eyes. "He'll always come back. He doesn't leave us because he wants to but because he has to and he _always_ comes back, do you understand?" Even though she was speaking to Kíli, a part of her was attempting to convince herself of the same. She wanted to believe that Thorin never left them in any way because he wanted to; that the near comatose state her brother was in was not by his own choice.

"And he doesn't leave because we were bad?" Kíli asked in a tiny voice.

"Never," Dís breathed. "That is _never_ why he leaves us."

"And _you're_ not mad," Kili said, his forehead wrinkling up a bit.

"No," she replied. "It was an accident and you've apologized. _But_ if it happens again, I will be mad and there will be consequences. Understand?"

"Yes, Mama," Kíli said before kissing her on the cheek and beaming up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "I love you."

"And I you, darling," she replied pulling him against her, her eyes filling with tears even though she wasn't sure why. "And nothing will ever change that." She held him to her for a moment before pulling back slightly and looking at him in mock disgust.

"However, the trollish stench coming off of you might attempt it," she said with a laugh. "The water's warm, now in the tub with you."

"I don't smell like a troll," Kíli replied scrunching up his nose.

"Have you ever smelled one?" Dís countered.

"No," Kíli grumbled. "but I don't smell like one. Fíli might, though. He needs a bath more than I do."

"I might," Fíli agreed stripping off his clothing and walking towards the tub. "But here shortly I won't." Just as he reached the tub, Kíli took off at a run and tried to slip into the tub before his brother, only for Fíli to hold him so that he couldn't do it and try to climb in on his own.

"Mother!" Kíli cried. "Fíli won't let me have a bath. I'm just trying to get into the tub and he won't let me!"

"You took too long," Fíli countered.  "I'm just going to take mine first. I'm older anyway."

"Yeah," Kíli agreed. "You were born first so I should get to bathe first."

"You'll both fit," Dís said trying to hide her laughter at their antics. "Why don't you share?"

"Not as much fun," Fíli replied, looking away from his struggling brother to smile at her. The twinkle in his eyes made Dís smile. It was clear to her that Fíli didn't really care about bath order, this was all an attempt to break the mood. With a smirk, he dumped Kíli in the water.

A second later, Kíli surfaced sputtering. "Mama!" he said looking at her with wet hair falling pathetically in his eyes.

"You did want in the tub, didn't you?" Dís asked with a smirk of her own as she rolled up her sleeves and walked towards her waterlogged son.

"Not really," Kíli muttered as she knelt beside the tub and began the process of undoing his wet, matted braids to wash his hair.

"Then you shouldn't have told him you did, darling," Dís said pressing a kiss to his wet hair.  "Fíli," she said as she guided Kíli's head under the water to wash out the soap she had rubbed into it.

"Mother?"

"While it was amusing, don't throw your brother in the tub again, please," she said allowing Kíli to surface and continuing to wash him. "It would be a shame if his hard head broke it."

"Yes, Mother," Fíli replied, her gentle chiding telling him that he had made a mistake but that he was still loved and not disappointing her. It would be simple enough not to throw Kíli into the tub. After all, there were other sources of water Kíli could be thrown into that Mother hadn't prohibited.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Once the boys were dry and tucked into bed, Dís went into the kitchen and took a small bowl of stew from the pot that was still warming on the edge of the fire. As little as she wanted to do so, she knew that she had to take Thorin something to eat. She didn't bother to knock as she entered his room. It wasn't as if he would care. She carefully closed the door behind her and placed the bowl on his end table before rousing him.

"Thorin?" she called, shaking his shoulder.

"Go 'way," he muttered not bothering to open his eyes.

"No," she said firmly. "You need to sit up. I brought you something to eat."

"Not hungry," came the reply.

"I don't care," she said. "Now, either sit up and eat or I will sit you up and feed you. Those are your choices."

"Leave me 'lone," Thorin said.

"That wasn't an option," she said bending to place an arm under his shoulder. As she tried to reposition him, she wished that he was one of her boys, they were easier to manipulate as they weren't quite so heavy. With a growl he pulled away from her and moved himself into a sitting position. He may not want to eat but it was far less humiliating to sit up on his own than to be sat up by his sister, even though he knew that he deserved the humiliation.

"Thank you," she said offering him a hard smile before placing the bowl in his lap and the spoon in his hand. "Now eat."

"I don't want food, Dís," Thorin said with a sigh, looking at her with sad blue eyes.

"Did I ask?" she replied. "Now eat." He sighed again and lifted the spoon to his mouth once before setting both it and the bowl aside. "That's not enough, Thorin," she said picking it back up and putting it in his lap. "Eat."

"No," he said setting it aside once more. "I neither want nor deserve food."

"I'd agree with you about deserving it," Dís snarled. She'd intended to be softer with him, but his mood reminded her too much of Fíli earlier that evening and she would be damned if Thorin would be allowed to drive her son to the same kinds of melancholy that he was so prone to.

"What?" Thorin breathed, fear closing in around his heart and making him feel as if he couldn't breathe. Dís had _never_ agreed with him when he said something like that before. She'd always insisted that nothing that had happened was his fault and that he was as deserving as any other. If she was swayed . . . perhaps he was right about himself. Maybe he was worthless.

"You were _supposed_ to be comforting Fíli," Dís said her voice a deadly whisper. "Not upsetting him more. He came back to me in tears, Thorin. He thinks you're mad at him. What happened? What did you say to my son?"

"He was crying and I . . . I told him I wasn't angry about the quill," Thorin said slowly. "That was all, Dís. I swear to you, I said nothing else."

"Really?" she asked, standing and beginning to pace. "You told him in as many words that you weren't mad?"

"Yes," Thorin said, not understanding his sister's ire. He'd done what he had set out to do. He'd told Fíli he wasn't angry and had attempted to comfort the lad. It wasn't as if he was crying when he'd left his room. No, that had been Thorin. He felt himself begin to drift again as the memories of his brother assaulted him once more.

"I have a very hard time believing that, Thorin," Dís snapped, feeling a bit of malicious delight when he jumped as if he had forgotten that she was there. "You must have said something else. He _told_ me that you were mad at him."

"I'm not!" Thorin countered, his anger at himself bleeding into his frustration with his sister that she wouldn't just allow him to wallow in his own failure and giving his words strength that he didn't feel he had at the moment. "I said _nothing_ that would make him think that."

"Well you must have said something!" Dís growled, meeting Thorin's anger with her own and knowing that she would defeat him if that was all he could muster. No matter what anger Thorin thought he had, it could not compare to the anger of a mother with an injured child.

"I didn't," he hissed. "I would remember. Mahal, Dís, it was just a quill! Not even one of the good ones. That one didn't even have a metal nub. Why would I be angry with him over that?!"

"I don't know,"  Dís said. "But you need to get over it. I love you, Thorin. And when you are not in one of these . . . these . . . _whatever_ they are, I love living with you, but I will not allow your melancholy to rub off on my son. I had to bribe him with pie to get him to eat dinner tonight after his talk with you. While I won't take them to the Iron Hills I _will_ move us to a different home in Ered Luin."

"Don't threaten me when I've done nothing wrong, Sister," Thorin said darkly.

"It's not a threat, Thorin," she said simply. "It's a promise. Unless you and Fíli can fix whatever this is between you, I will take both him and Kíli and move out. You will still be welcome to see them, I'm not taking them from you but I will do what I have to to keep Fíli sane. Do you understand?"

"I . . . I do," Thorin replied, feeling utterly defeated by her promise. "Give me a few days, Dís. I . . . I'll think of some way to make it up to him. Just . . . just don't go."

"You have a week, Thorin," Dís said. "If you haven't fixed this by this time next week I _will_ begin looking for another home."

"If I haven't fixed it _I_ will move out," Thorin promised. "You and the boys can stay here. I will find a small place for myself."

"Fine," Dís agreed. "You can move out." She stopped at the door and turned back, offering him a small smile where he sat on his bed looking at his hands.

"And Thorin?" he looked up at her, an expression she couldn't place in his eyes. "If you bring me that bowl with no food in it there is still pie in the kitchen. I made sure that the ravenous things I call children left you a piece."

"Thank you," Thorin whispered as she closed the door behind her. However he had no interest in pie or food at all for that matter. No, all that interested Thorin Oakenshield was how to make it clear to a child that he was not angry so that he didn't lose the things that mattered most to him in the world. If they left him . . . without them . . . Thorin couldn't imagine what would become of him if he lost Dís and the boys. It was then that he decided that he would find a way to convince Fíli if it was the last thing he did because if he failed it would be.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It took Thorin two days to come up with a solution to his problem. He had tried to think of everything that could convince Fíli that he was not angry, but most of the solutions that he could think of were by no means age appropriate. It was only when he thought back to his own childhood and remembered what his father had done to prove that he was proud of him that Thorin knew what to do. He knew just the gesture that was needed to repair his relationship with his nephew.  Now all he had to do was wait for Dís to return from the market with the lad.

He didn't have long to wait. Not twenty minutes after he had come to a decision, he heard the front door open and his nephews' laughter ringing through the house. Casting a prayer to the Maker that it worked, Thorin stood and walked towards the front room to collect his eldest nephew. The boys were still in the hall when he saw them, Kíli struggling against Fíli's hold on him attempting to be free.

At the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, Fíli released Kíli causing his brother to fall at his abrupt freedom. He turned and saw his uncle standing behind him, an expression that he could not place on his face. He felt his stomach drop as he realized that he was probably in trouble for roughhousing indoors.

"Fíli," Thorin said. "I'd like a word, lad. Will you come with me?" Fíli felt his heart stop. While his uncle didn't look mad, he'd never asked for a private word before and that made the dwarfling nervous and solidified his belief that he was to be punished.

"Have . . . have I done something bad?" Fíli asked quietly, not quite meeting Thorin's eyes as he flicked his own eyes from his boots to his uncle's face. Thorin's heart broke for the desperation he heard there and realized that Dís was right: Fíli did think he was angry with him.

"No, lad," Thorin promised, releasing his shoulder and holding out his hand for Fíli to take. "You haven't done anything wrong. I'd just like to talk to you, is that alright?" Fíli nodded and shakily put his hand into his uncle's and allowed Thorin to lead him to his uncle's bedroom—somewhere Fíli and Kíli weren't allowed to be without permission from Thorin himself.

"Uncle? Me too?" Kíli called, looking after them with wide brown eyes from his place on the ground.

"Not this time, little one," Thorin whispered, knowing the answer would hurt Kíli. "I just need Fíli for a moment. I'll have him right back to you. Go see if your mother needs help with dinner."

"Yes, Uncle," Kíli muttered sullenly before turning and going into the kitchen.

"Just me?" Fíli asked hesitantly, meeting Thorin's eyes for the first time in days.

"Aye, lad," Thorin replied. "Just you. Come along." Fíli followed. He couldn't see a way around it though he was now sure that he was going to be punished for something. Going to his uncle's room, Kíli being sent away, his uncle being mad at him . . . it didn't bode well. The only time the boys were ever separated intentionally was when one of them was to be punished for something they hadn't done together. It didn't calm his nerves any when Thorin began rummaging in a drawer.

"Have a seat," Thorin called as he did. "I'm afraid the only place to sit is the bed but feel free to sit there." Fíli did as he was told, cautiously climbing onto the large bed and sitting on the edge with his feet dangling. He flinched slightly when he heard his uncle hum as he found whatever it was that he was looking for.

"Close your eyes, Fíli," Thorin ordered with his back still to him. Taking a deep breath, Fíli closed his eyes. He felt the bed beside him dip under his uncle's weight and then his uncle was gently taking his hand and opening it before placing something cool in it and closing it once more.

"You can open them now, lad," Thorin said. When he did, the first thing he saw were his Uncle's blue eyes looking down at him with regret and sadness. "Take a look," Thorin whispered, nudging Fíli's hand with his own. Cautiously, Fíli opened his hand and saw a shiny silver ring there. It was a simple band inlayed with a blue stone.

"Uncle, what is this?" Fíli asked turning it and watching the way the light reflected off the nearly white metal. He'd never seen anything like it.

"What do you think it is?" Thorin replied, watching the wonder on Fíli's young face with a gentle smile. He truly hadn't meant to upset the boy and seeing him smile . . . it warmed Thorin's heart.

"Silver?" Fíli guessed. "It doesn't look like Mother's hairclasps but I know it's not gold or iron. I've never seen anything like this before. Is it silver?"

"Close," Thorin said with a gentle laugh. "It's mithril. "True silver" in the common tongue."

"Mithril?" Fíli breathed, having learned about it in lessons the day before, and it's value. "How . . . where did you get this?"

"I've had it," Thorin replied remembering him asking his father the same question and receiving nearly the same reply that he was about to give. "My . . . my father gave it to me when he felt I was worthy, just as his father did him. If I'd have had a son I would have given it to him when the time was right but," Thorin paused and sighed deeply, when he continued, his voice was thicker as he thought of the dam he had loved that had loved another. "I never did and I never will. You, you and Kíli, are the closest thing I will ever have to sons."

"Your mother told me about what you thought happened the other day and what you think has been going on lately," Thorin said. Fíli felt himself go cold. Mother had told his uncle that he had cried again after he left. And probably that he had said that his uncle hadn't been truthful. He knew now why he was in trouble. It wasn't for playing rough in the house. It was because true dwarves didn't cry or lie.

"Fíli . . . I'm so sorry, lad," Thorin whispered placing his hand on Fíli's cheek and rubbing the smooth skin below his eye with a thumb. "I didn't mean to make you think that I was angry with you or that I don't love you like I do Kíli. You are both so very precious to me. I don't know what I'd do without either of you. That's why I've decided to do this."

"Do what, Uncle?" Fíli breathed, just knowing that this was when his uncle would tell him what his punishment was.

"Give this to you," Thorin replied closing Fíli's hand around the bit of mithril. "I had meant to wait until you were older but . . . I think now's the time."

"You're . . . you're giving this to me?" Fíli asked. "But . . . it's too much, Uncle. I mean . . . your father gave it to you. He meant for you to have it. Not me." In response, Thorin laughed and pulled Fíli into his lap.

"He gave it to me to give to you, lad," Thorin promised. "True, he didn't know that he was giving it to you as you weren't born yet but . . . all the same, it was _meant_ to come to you someday. The heir to the throne has always carried it. When you're a bit older, there's a dagger that goes with it. But your mother would kill me if I gave you that now." Fíli smiled, knowing just how upset it made his mother when his uncle left his weapons lying around the house.

"Uncle," Fíli whispered. "I . . . I just have one question."

"Ask," Thorin replied.

"Are . . . you sure I should keep it?" Fíli said. "Wouldn't it have a better use than as a present for me? Mr. Balin told us a little bit about the different metals and their worth. This . . . this is too much for me to keep. If you sold it, you and Mother wouldn't have to work so hard. Wouldn't that be better? You could spend more time with me and Kíli."

"Oh, lad," Thorin sighed, hugging Fíli to him, shocked at his nephew's thoughtfulness. "It's true that if I could find someone willing to pay its full worth that it could keep us for life, however no one will pay that much for it. That's one of the reasons I still have it. My father . . . after the fall of Erebor times were _hard_ , Fíli. I . . . I'll tell you more about it when you are older, but we needed whatever we could get. We were desperate and people knew it. They knew they could offer us whatever they wanted—even a quarter of the value—for what bit of gold and jewels we had. Father . . . he tried to sell it, more than once, to get things we needed but . . . they didn't even offer him a sixteenth of its worth. I've thought about it, but, lad, that little bit of mithril is worth more than everything we currently own and perhaps the entire settlement. No one can afford it. Or no one I would sell it to."

"No, Fíli," Thorin continued. "Even if I wanted to, it would have been the wrong thing to do. This is rightfully yours. It marks you as the heir to the throne of Erebor. My heir, my sister-son—near enough to my own child by blood and by affection. Keep it. I think you're ready."

"There is only one thing, lad," Thorin said seriously. "It is yours, but until you are properly trained, I will ask you not to wear it openly. There are those that would harm you for it. I could never live with myself if that happened. Do you understand?" Fíli nodded before he looked up at his uncle with tear-filled eyes.

"I . . . I understand," Fíli breathed his blue eyes wide, "but . . . I can't take this, Uncle. I . . . I'm not ready. I'm not worthy to carry it. I . . . I can't even do sums yet." Thorin nodded sadly at his nephew's obvious panic and took the ring back from Fíli, closing his hand around Fíli's in the process.

"Alright," Thorin replied. "You do not need to stress yourself over this, Fíli. I will keep it for you for now. The moment that you feel you are ready, ask for it and I will give it to you. I believe that you are ready now but I will not force this on you. Deal?" Fíli nodded and laid his head against his uncle's chest, feeling the steady pulse of life beneath his ear. Thorin froze for half a second and then threaded his hand through Fíli's golden hair with a sad smile.

"I love you, Uncle," Fíli whispered as he clung to his uncle's tunic trying to hide his tears. Even if he knew that his uncle was wrong, what he'd said . . . it was everything that Fíli had ever wanted to hear.

"And I you, Fíli," Thorin replied wondering why the words were so easy for him to say with his eyes closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone. I hope that your celebrations were both safe and fun!
> 
> Strange as it feels, I actually get to post a chapter without an apology . . . let's try to keep that trend going in the new year, shall we? (It was my new year's resolution, after all) 
> 
> Stickdonkeys


	17. Time Marches On

Years passed and Fíli never came for the ring. He and Kíli both grew, Fíli filling out nicely and remaining proportional while Kíli . . . well, Kíli was just Kíli. He was still much to tall and thin for his age, but for all his thinness, there was a strength in those scrawny limbs that was still rather impressive.

They had continued their lessons. Fíli's work impeccable and brilliant—though he refused to believe it and could always find fault with even the most flawless things, much to Dís' continued displeasure—while Kíli's was passable at best. Unlike his brother, Kíli was pleased with it and even when it was criticized, it did not seem to faze him. He just laughed and said that he'd do better next time.

Balin had spoken to Thorin about Kíli's lack of drive, but the king had only laughed it off and asked if Balin could remember any young child that behaved differently. Balin had just looked sadly at where Fíli sat pouring over a text of history in Khuzdul while Kíli sat across from him doodling. It was clear to him that Thorin was blind where his blonde heir was concerned. He may still be proud and yet critical of Fíli's achievements, but he had no idea what the boy himself was like; he couldn't see the drive that Fíli possessed. The exact opposite to how he viewed Kíli. Thorin seemed blind to Kíli's faults, offering praises for even the most paltry of attempts, but had no doubts as to what Kíli was himself. Even so, there was nothing to be done for it and once more, Balin let it go. 

Despite their differences in temperaments, Fíli and Kíli continued to be inseparable. That was until Fíli's twenty-fifth birthday. That was when Thorin and Dís had agreed upon him beginning to train with weapons. Unlike the start of his education, there had been no brawl between the siblings over this matter. Thorin had learned his lesson about challenging Dís in such things, and this was something that Dís had an interest in her son learning. She'd already lost too many people that she cared about to war and while she understood that teaching her son to fight might put him in a position to be lost, she also understood that not teaching him to fight would be worse.

The idea of Fíli being cut down because she had forbidden him to learn to defend himself . . . it was not one that bore consideration. No. There was no way in good conscience that she could forbid this. Even if the thought of her son being faced with others that held weapons, even for training purposes, was one that she also refused to consider. It was that final thought that made her force Thorin to allow her to be the one to take him to Dwalin the day after his birthday. She wanted to express to her cousin just how much of her ire he would bring down upon himself if he ever returned her son to her more injured than was absolutely necessary.

Even though her nerves were strung so tightly that she could barely plait his hair that morning, Fíli was full of energy. She smiled as he squirmed under her hands. If she closed her eyes and ignored the texture of the hair in her hands she could almost imagine that it was Kíli who sat between her knees. Fíli was never one to fidget and that he was now . . . well, it only served to show her just how excited he truly was.

Looking down, she swore under her breath at the uneven plait her clumsy fingers had created. It had been far too long since she had braided his hair. With a sigh she began to unravel it in preparation of beginning anew.

"Mother," he offered, his tone the soft one that he had adopted when offering a suggestion that he knew would be rejected—the one that broke her heart to hear, "I can have them in in just a moment. They don't take me long anymore."

"I know that, Darling," Dís replied pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And they would look better than mine as well."

"I . . . I didn't say that," Fíli breathed frantically.

"Hush," she replied stroking his cheek. "I know you didn't. I said it. And it's true." She ignored his stuttered protest and continued. "But be that as it may, today is a special occasion and I'd like to do them. That is, if you'll hold still. You're worse than Kíli."

"What about me?" Kíli called from across the room where he and Thorin were examining a plan for something or another that he was doing for class, Thorin suggesting improvements while Kíli incorporating them into the finished design.

"Nothing," Dís replied. "I just said that your brother is more fidgety than you today."

"Doubt it," Kíli muttered turning back to his work. "Fíli never fidgets."

"I assure you, he does," she said with a laugh. "And when Dwalin asks me about his crooked plaits that's what I intend to tell him."

"That's not what Mr. Balin says," Kíli said sullenly.

"If you don't like hearing it," Fíli said quietly, "then maybe you should learn to sit still in class, Kíli. It's only a few hours."

"It's not the end of the world if he fidgets a bit," Thorin said reaching out to ruffle Kíli's hair affectionately. "After all, the inability to sit still is just a sign of all the energy he contains. Isn't that right, little one?" Kíli beamed at his uncle, all traces of his foul mood disappearing as suddenly as they'd come.

Fíli said nothing, but Dís did notice that he made a conscious effort to hold still. Perhaps he'd taken her lighthearted comment about crooked braids to heart more than she had thought he would. Fíli did take more pride in his appearance than Kíli, or even Thorin, did. She'd tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary but he'd merely smiled at her before saying, "I'm the heir. I should look the part." She'd wished then that she had a way to show him what Thorin had looked like at his age, running wild through the corridors of Erebor and the forests that surrounded it, braidless hair tangled with leaves and twigs just as Kíli's tended to be. But that, like all her wishes went unanswered. And he wouldn't have believed her had she attempted to _tell_ him such a thing. Even she couldn't see the carefree child that her brother had once been. There was no way that Fíli would be able to.

Eventually she managed to get his braids in place so that they suited her and would please him and tied the last one off with a bit of twine.

"Up you get," she said patting his shoulder to encourage him to move. She wasn't the least bit offended when his fingers came up to check her work. Especially not when he decided to leave it in.

"Thank you, Mother," Fíli said turning to face her, a small smile on his face.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Now, let's get you to Dwalin before he wonders if we've changed our mind." Fíli nodded and turned to go to the hall to gather the things that he'd been told to take with him.

"Can't I come?" Kíli whined, trying one final time to be granted the permission that he'd been denied countless times before.

"No," Dís said firmly. "You can go when you're twenty-five. Not a day earlier." Kíli pouted for a moment before turning to Thorin, his brown eyes wide.

"Uncle?" he pleaded, begging Thorin to overrule his mother on this.

"Not this time, Little One," Thorin said with a laugh. "In this your mother's word is law. You'll just have to stay here with me. Now tell me, is that truly so bad?"

"Suppose not," Kíli muttered with a smirk. "Can we at least do something fun? I don't want to stay cooped up inside all day."

"We could go fishing," Thorin offered. "It's been some time since we had fish and the stream should contain them this time of year."

"Can we?" Kíli asked sitting up straighter, a smile splitting his face. Dís looked down at Fíli who had made a happy noise in his throat at the idea of fishing but refused to express a desire to go.

"I see no reason why not," Thorin replied. "Get your boots." As Kíli fled the room with a cheer, Dís cleared her throat and leveled a glare at her brother.

"What?" Thorin demanded, not understanding what she might be objecting to. He'd taken the lads out of the settlement more times that once over the years and she'd never objected yet. Dís sighed and raised an eyebrow before nudging her head at where Fíli was bent over his boots. Thorin sighed as well. This was another of his sister's "say something nice" moments.

"Good luck today, lad," Thorin said his eyes meeting Fíli's as the boy turned to look at him.

"Thank you, Uncle," Fíli replied. "I'm ready to go, Mother." Dís sighed at her brother's weak attempt before turning to Fíli with a smile.

"Thorin," she called as she walked out the door, "Just be home in time for supper." She didn't wait for his response before shutting the door.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It wasn't a long walk to the training grounds but it seemed interminable to Fíli. It was everything that he could do to keep stay next to his mother. It seemed to him that she was being deliberately slow, but he didn't say anything. Instead he made a conscious effort to match his steps to hers the best that he could with his shorter legs in an effort not to rush her. It was only when he would feel the tug on his hand that he realized that he was attempting to run off and leave her only to slow once more.

About the fourth time this happened Dís laughed.

"Peace, Fili," she said pulling gently on his hand. "The training grounds will still be there. There's no need to rush."

"Yes, Mother," he replied obediently, though he wanted to say that they were already running late and that Mr. Dwalin would be unhappy. He'd never seen Mr. Dwalin displeased, but he could imagine that it would be quite intimidating.

Dís smiled at the disquiet she could hear in his tone. She knew that Fíli hadn't meant what he said just as she knew that he would never tell her that she was taking too long. He truly was a sweet child, she only hoped that he could retain some of that sweetness when her cousin was done with him.

"I'll walk faster," Dís said, quickening her steps to match the pace that Fíli had been trying to set.

"You don't have to," Fíli said, though he began trotting beside her and seemed more pleased with the pace. "I was being unreasonable. We can—"

"A brisk walk never hurt anyone, darling," she replied cutting off his protests. She knew that she'd been walking slower than she normally did at any rate. Even if she knew that it was essential that Fíli went to training that didn't mean that she _wanted_ to allow her baby to go. Fíli's enthusiasm did make it easier, though. She couldn't bring herself to let him see how much something he was looking forward to bothered her and take that from him. Especially when she knew she was being foolish. Dwalin would look out for him.

"'Bout time the two of you got here," Dwalin said the moment they entered the training grounds. Dís smirked at the way Fíli ran right up to her gruff cousin.

"Of course we came!" the dwarfling chirped practically vibrating with energy as he looked at all the training weapons laid out at the larger dwarf's feet. "I wouldn't have missed this!" Dwalin raised an eyebrow at Fíli's demeanor, he'd been told by his brother that Fíli was more sedate than Kíli when it came to lessons but he couldn't imagine how the younger could possibly have more energy.

"I . . . I mean," Fíli said seeing the raised eyebrow and knowing from his uncle that it meant he had done something odd. With a great deal of energy, he suppressed his excitement and offered his cousin a bow, "Thank you for agreeing to teach me, Mr. Dwalin." He was slightly hurt when his cousin began to laugh but that disappeared as the large dwarf scooped him up into a bone-crushing hug.

"You're more than welcome, laddie," Dwalin said setting him down and patting him on the shoulder a bit harder than Fíli was prepared for nearly causing his knees to buckle.

"Be gentle!" Dís chided. "He's still a child, Dwalin."

Dwalin made a dismissive noise and waved his hand at her. "Nonsense, Dís," he scoffed. "I didn't hurt him, did I, laddie?"

"No, Mr. Dwalin," Fíli replied with a shy smile.

"Be that as it may," Dís said, not believing her son—Fíli would have agreed to anything a teacher said, "I swear to the Maker, Dwalin, if you so much as—"

"I hear you," Dwalin replied. "He'll be fine, Dís. He may get a few bruises, and odds are he'll be a bit sore tomorrow but he'll have all of his fingers and toes when I return him to you."

"He'd better," Dís said coldly before bending slightly and pressing a kiss to Fíli's forehead. "Have fun, Darling," she said, placing her hand on his cheek and offering him a warm smile. Her smile turned cold as she looked back to her cousin.

"This mean you're not staying?" Dwalin asked. With that, Fíli's mother said a word that he'd never heard before and didn't know the meaning of but that caused Dwalin to laugh.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Dwalin said.

"Of course it's a no," Dís said with a smirk. "I'd hate to have to beat you in front of your new pupil, cousin. And we both know that's what would happen if I watched you attack my son."

"We'll see you later," Dwalin replied with a laugh not willing to take her up on her threat. He'd never seen the fury of a mother dwarf protecting her child directed at him but he had seen Dís in a rage. To be completely honest, she was far more intimidating than her brother could ever hope to be. At least Thorin followed a warrior's code. Dís . . . well she had no such qualms.

"That you will," she said in parting. Dwalin wondered if he was the only one that had heard the hint of threat in her words.

"So, laddie," Dwalin said, shaking off his nerves. "What would you like to try first?" 


	18. Fish and Demonstrations

Dís swore as she stabbed her finger with the needle yet again before setting the fabric aside with a sigh. As much as she needed to finish patching the hole that Kíli had put in the seat of his trousers climbing trees—even if he swore that his feet had never left the ground—it was beyond her at the moment. As important as it was for Fíli to learn to defend himself, and even though she knew that he was in no danger with Dwalin, she couldn't help but feel anxious. It was a strange feeling for her, this restlessness.

It wasn't uncommon for her sons to be out of the house, either with their uncle or one of their elder cousins, but for some reason something _felt_ wrong to her. She couldn't put her finger on it, and had she attempted to explain it she would never have been able to, but something felt amiss. She tried to tell herself that she was being foolish. Kíli was safe with his uncle and Fíli was safe with Dwalin. She was simply being paranoid.

She had tried to burry herself in the housework that she occasionally let slip. Keeping up with her boys was still a full-time job, even if they had grown to be more help as they'd aged, and so there was plenty of deep cleaning that had been neglected for long enough that she _should_ have been able to occupy herself until they returned. It had failed, just as it always did, to hold her attention.

Just as she was about to give into her need to pace if only so that she could be in motion rather than sitting still even if she was going nowhere, the door opened and Kíli tumbled through it, kicking his boots off in a heap and dangling a stringer full of fish.

"Look, Mother, fish!" he called charging towards her in his socks, and offering her the stringer.

"I see that," she replied, taking the stringer with a smirk. "Lots of fish. Just what do you plan to do with so many?"

"Eat them," he said simply, his brown eyes dancing with mischief. "I _might_ even share with you and Fíli."

"Might, eh?" she asked with a laugh reaching out with her free hand to ruffle his hair. "If you won't then I hope you're content to eat them raw because I'm not certain that I will be willing to share my hearth to cook something I won't get to enjoy."

"You'd better share, Lad," Thorin said, placing a hand on Kíli's shoulder and smiling down at him. "After all, your mother does have the best recipe for roasted fish in Ered Luin. It would be a shame for us to have to eat them raw." In response, Dís scoffed. It wasn't the _best_ by far.

"Stop teasing, Thorin," she breathed blushing red beneath her beard.

"I do not tease, Dís," he replied with a smile. "I only speak the truth. Your fish are delicious. I would very much like to eat that for dinner if you have no other plans."

"I had a plan but we can eat it tomorrow. After all, there was no guarantee that you would come how with fish," Dís said, her blush refusing to fade. "So," she said clearing her throat, "since I'm cooking them does that mean I have to clean them as well?"

"Well, we did catch them," Thorin replied with a smirk.

"You did," Dís agreed. "However, I believe that would be a good deal more fun than roasting them. Can you deny that you enjoyed yourselves?"

"No," Thorin said. "I can't. However that doesn't mean that it wasn't work as well. Right, Little One?"

"Oh yes, Mother," Kíli added, looking up at his mother with wide eyes. "It was lots of work."

"Oh, do tell," Dís prompted fighting the smirk she could feel trying to creep onto her face. Kíli would say anything to get out of work and she knew that Thorin would back him, all the same, she couldn't resist the urge to see how he rationalized _fishing_ as hard work.

"Well, we had to tie knots to keep the hooks on and catch bugs for bait and . . . and we had to carry them back!" Kíli said, his face showing that he thought it was a wonderful explanation.

"Oh! That sounds so arduous," Dís teased ruffling his hair again. "At any rate it's more trying than what I've done today. I'll clean them."

"Or I can," Fíli said from the doorway. Dís glanced up sharply at the offer and inspected her son the best she could without touching him. There were no visible marks on him and it seemed that everything was where it was supposed to be. Perhaps she had been worrying over nothing.

"I can handle it, Darling," Dís replied with a smile. "You had a busy day as well. Why don't you go sit with your brother and uncle while I take care of this."

"If I do that I'm the only one that contributed nothing to the meal," Fíli said.  "Let me help."

"Fíli," she sighed, trying to come up with a way that would keep him from feeling as if he hadn't done anything to deserve food—though he knew that you didn't have to deserve food to get it—and yet also keep him from cleaning the fish.

"Don't coddle the lad, Dís," Thorin said, causing his sister to turn towards him incredulously. He dared to accuse her of coddling Fíli—who had been training all day—when he'd said nothing to Kíli for attempting to skive off work after a day spent sitting on a bank fishing!

"I do not coddle him!" she snapped. "He just spent the day training with Dwalin. He's bound to be exhausted and if—"

"And he wants to clean them," Thorin countered. "He knows his own abilities. Give the lad the fish." Dís opened her mouth to protest, but Fíli was already beside her, his hand around the stringer below her own and his blue eyes staring up at her with determination.

"I can do this, Mother," he said with a small smile. "Let me help."

"Fine," she said relinquishing her hold with a sigh. "If you insist, you can clean them. Leave the skins." Fíli nodded, already having known that since they were trout it would be better to leave the skins on but said nothing. Instead he went to the counter and began setting up an area to clean the fish.

Dís watched him for a moment, prepared to take over at the first sign of fatigue. She remembered just how trying the first day of training could be, though if she remembered correctly, Fíli wouldn't be aware of that fact until he attempted to rise tomorrow morning.

"He's all there, Dís," Dwalin said leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Just like I promised." She jumped, embarrassed to have been caught checking him over so soon after she'd denied coddling.

"A mother likes to see these things for herself," she replied covering her embarrassment with coolness. "After all, Cousin, you _would_ tell me that he was fine. Especially knowing what I would do to you if he wasn't."

"Damn right I would," Dwalin replied with a laugh. "As would any dwarf with a hint of sense."

"I can't believe that _you_ are afraid of my little sister," Thorin scoffed, leaning casually against the wall and smirking at his cousin. "You're nearly twice her size."

"Would _you_ be willing to come home and tell her you'd injured either of the lads?" Dwalin asked seriously.

"Well, that's different," Thorin replied airily waving away his question with a dismissive gesture. "They're . . . they're my nephews. Of course _I_ am expected to protect them from harm when I take them out. You're his combat instructor. She can't expect you to return him without the occasional bruise or cut."

Dwalin snorted but said nothing. It hadn't missed his notice that Thorin had avoided answering the question.

"So how did he do?" Dís asked, cutting into the conversation just as Dwalin opened his mouth to rebut her brother. The last thing she wanted was for the two of them to decide the boys needed a "combat demonstration" in the yard.

"He was brilliant, Dís," Dwalin said grinning widely. "Lad's got talent."

"I wasn't that good, Mr. Dwalin," Fíli said quietly, looking over his shoulder with disbelief clear on his face. "I wound up on the ground more than once."

"That you did, lad," Dwalin agreed. "But that's expected. Trust me, you wound up there fewer times than most. You've got good instincts."

"Course he does," Thorin added with a laugh, pride at his nephew's intrinsic abilities lightening his already good mood. "It's in his blood. I'd be more surprised if you told me he was hopeless."

"Thorin!" Dís hissed, hating the way her brother dismissed Fíli's achievements so casually. The fact that it was done with a laugh and a smile only adding to the sting of the dismissal rather than making it better.

"What?" he replied wondering what he'd done to evoke her ire this time. Perhaps it was the reminder of their family's bloody history, but that did not change the veracity of his statement and he was prepared to defend it. "It's true. Battle is in his blood, Dís. As is perseverance in the face of adversity, but it'll take more than instinct to keep him alive if someone wants him dead."

"That's why he's training," Dís said doing her best to keep her voice level so that neither Dwalin nor her sons saw her arguing with her brother. "He's there to hone those instincts into skills."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed, trying to break the tension he could feel between the siblings. "And he's got the instincts to hone. You should come see for yourself, Thorin. I think you'll be impressed." Dís flinched as Fíli dropped the knife he was using to clean the fish and shot a furtive glance over his shoulder. As Thorin seemed to consider it, Dís found herself praying that he couldn't make it. It was clear to her that Fíli did not want his uncle there and that Thorin's presence would only hinder his lessons since he would be more worried about pleasing his uncle that learning what he was being taught.

Thorin looked from where Fíli continued to shoot glances over his shoulder, to the tension in his sister's shoulders and knew that even though he had a full day scheduled tomorrow he had no choice but to fit in a visit to the training ground. If he wanted to keep peace in their home, that is. His meeting with Balin could be moved up and there was only a bit of work to be done at the forge. If he was up before dawn he could meet all his obligations and still make at least the end of Fíli's lessons.

Once he had it figured out, Thorin nodded. "I will come," he said. "I'm afraid there is no way I can be there for the whole lesson but I will be able to be there for the end. The two of you can show me what he's learned in two days."

"That we will!" Dwalin laughed clapping Fíli—who was now moving some of the fish to a new counter for his mother to season—on the shoulder. "Won't we, Lad?" Fíli's smile as he replied was much too tight for Dís' taste, but his voice was steady as he spoke.

"That we will," he said. "Mother, do you want the rest of these fish cleaned or—"

"Go, Darling," Dís replied. "Have a bath. Kíli can finish."

"What?!" the younger brother asked looking up from his latest project.

"You heard me," she replied. "Your brother cleaned half already, you can do the rest while I get started on dinner. It's only fair, after all." Kíli looked as though he would protest but stopped when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

"Come, Little One," Thorin said smiling down at his youngest. "Your mother's right. It is only fair. We were the ones that had fun catching them, we should at least share in the task of cleaning them."

Dís fought back the urge to protest as she watched her brother pick up the knife and begin cleaning the fish, leaving Kíli with the task of "assisting" and then threading the clean fish onto a line to be dried. To her knowledge, her youngest son had never cleaned a fish on his own and she wanted to tell her brother that Kíli would never learn if never given the chance but she kept her peace. After all, if she had learned one lesson in her lifetime it was that she needed to pick her battles. As irksome as this was, it wasn't worth the fight. Not yet. After all, Kíli was still a child. There would be plenty of time for him to learn to clean fish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all, remember me? Once more I must apologize for the delay. School started back up and there's just a ton of work that needs to be done. Good news is, school's over in two more weeks. Bad news is, I'm expecting a baby four weeks after that. I should still have time to write (newborns do sleep a lot from what I'm told) but if things slow down (not more than they already have but you know what I mean) that's what's going on. That said, I will do my best to keep updates coming in a regular fashion. I've actually gotten this fic mostly written, I just have to fill the hole up to what I already have and then updates will be quite regular until the end. I hope you're still enjoying this fic and would love to hear what you thought.


	19. Short Tempers and Bows

The next morning Thorin was out of the house before either Dís or the boys were awake. The only way that she knew her brother had left at all were the dirty dishes he had left on the table from his breakfast. As she cleared them away, she shook her head hoping that Thorin would grow busy and forget that he was supposed to go to Fíli's lessons. As much as she knew that being forgotten would hurt her son, she was more worried about what might happen if her brother _did_ go.

She had only been awake for a short time when she heard the tell-tale signs of her sons awakening. It was the same every morning, Kíli always woke first. And then, not content to be awake alone, he would always pounce his brother to wake Fíli. They had always gotten up the same way. At first, Dís had attempted to keep Kíli from harassing his brother, encouraging him to use the time until Fíli woke to engage in his own hobbies, but as time passed she had given up. The only way she could have prevented it anyway was to put them in separate rooms and they simply didn't have the space.

Besides, Fíli had assured her more than once that he didn't mind in the least. And she had sensed no lie in him. He truly didn't mind his brother's antics. And she didn't actually mind if they had a bit of a scuffle in the mornings. After all, children needed a bit of play every now and then. Even if it was a bit more rough that she would have liked, neither of them ever seriously wounded the other and nothing was every broken. She supposed that she could ask for no more than that.

This morning, however, Kíli's battle cry wasn't followed by laughter and rough-housing, but rather a short, sharp statement from Fíli. At first she was shocked. She'd never heard Fíli use that tone with anyone, let alone his little brother, but she supposed it made sense. After all, he was bound to be sore after spending the day with Dwalin. Kíli was apparently surprised too. Even though she couldn't make out the words, his tone was equally as sharp as his brother's had been and there was an edge of anger to it as well. She was wondering if she should intervene before a fight broke out but then Fíli's voice wafted back to her, soft, tired and repentant. And, like every argument between them, it blew over.  

Yes, they had their disagreements, all siblings do. And she was sure that they'd had at _least_ one scuffle, both of them had had tears in the clothing that neither of them would explain, but it pleased her to see just how close they were. Fíli doted on his brother in a way that Thorin had doted on her and Frerin. Anything that Kíli requested, if it was within his power, Fíli saw to it that he got it.

And Kíli . . . Dís had to continue to remind herself that he was young yet. If he was still a bit self-centered, well it made sense. He was the youngest of their line, and the last until the lads had babes of their own, and it wasn't as if Fíli ever asked Kíli for anything. Dís knew in her heart that if Fíli ever asked Kíli would give him whatever he wanted. After all, for all his lack of intuition where his brother was concerned, Kíli was a sweet child at heart. And intuition would come with time. After all, they were both still very young.

Even as that last thought crossed her mind, Thorin's image popped into her head. Despite what she'd thought about intuition coming with age, Thorin was proof that it didn't always. Her brother was _remarkably_ dense when it came to other's thoughts and feelings. Subtleties were lost on him. And while she supposed that some of that was a necessity to rule—as he couldn't always be preoccupied with what others were thinking, especially as being king required making the occasional unpopular decision—she could only hope that it was one trait of her brother's that neither of her sons developed.

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time the boys actually emerged from their room, Dís had banished her more melancholy thoughts and they sat down to a pleasant breakfast that led to a peaceful morning. If Fíli was a bit withdrawn, well, it made sense. After all, he was tired. Or at least that was what she tried to tell herself, even if she knew the truth.

As the day drew on, Fíli only grew more tense until he was snapping at Kíli for such small things that Dís had no choice but to intercede. All Kíli had done was bat at his brother's braid in an attempt to convince him to wrestle with him, something he did regularly. He hadn't pulled or anything and Fíli had smacked his hand away hard enough that Kíli had staggered into the chair.

"What'd you do that for?" Kíli had demanded, rubbing his hip where it had hit the corner of the arm of the chair.

"Why'd you have to keep batting at me?" Fíli demanded in reply.

"I just wanted to play," Kíli snapped, his brown eyes flashing angrily. "It's not _my_ fault you're grumpy today. If you didn't want to you could have just told me. You didn't have to hit me."

"Like you'd've _listened_?" Fíli shot back. "You never listen. The only way to get anything throu gh your thick skull is to—"

"Fíli," she said softly, her tone incredulous. "was it truly necessary to hit him?" At her question, his shoulders slumped as his anger evaporated.

"No, Mother," Fíli replied quietly. "I shouldn't have swatted at him."

"No," Dís agreed, not bothering to ask why he'd done it if he knew he shouldn't because she knew he'd already be asking himself that same question. "You shouldn't've. He didn't mean any harm."

"I know he didn't," Fíli replied. "I just . . . I'm . . . I'm sorry, Kíli. I just don't want to play right now, alright? Can we play later?"

"But I don't want to play later," Kíli argued. "I want to play _now._ "

"Kíli," Dís sighed. "I understand that you want to play, but Fíli's asked nicely for you to let him be. Don't you think you should?"

"No," the youngest replied, his tone surly, before looking hopefully at his mother. "Shouldn't he have to play with me since he hit me when he shouldn't've."

"Is playtime _ever_ a punishment?" Dís asked in return, shaking her head indulgently at her youngest. He should have known better by now than to try to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. It might work on his uncle but it had never worked on her.

"No," Kíli said sullenly. "So he's not going to play with me?"

"You're welcome to ask, however I doubt his answer will have change in mere moments," she replied. Rather than ask, Kíli looked expectantly at his brother who shook his head.

"Not today, Kíli," the elder muttered looking away. "I'm sore from yesterday. I'll play with you tomorrow. Alright?"

"Fine," Kíli  sighed turning his back on his brother and playing with the stone blocks Thorin had made for him on his last birthday.

"I'm sorry," Fíli muttered, looking at his brother's back with sad eyes. It nearly broke Dís' heart when Fíli's face fell further at Kíli's lack of acknowledgement of the apology. But she knew that she couldn't force Kíli to accept it.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It was almost a relief when it was time for Fíli to go train with Dwalin. Even with the fear of disappointing his uncle hanging over his head, he was more than glad to go to the training grounds if only because it meant that he could get away from his brother for a bit. He couldn't stand being in the same room as his brother, not when Kíli was so clearly cross with him. More than once that afternoon he considered simply giving his brother what he wanted but he hadn't lied when he'd said that he was sore. Not that Dwalin hadn't warned him, he had, and he'd also said that it wasn't a reason to skip training since if he did it would only be worse the next time he did show up. Mr. Dwalin had said that the only way to get through it was to continue to train.

He was even more relieved when they arrived at the training ground and his uncle was nowhere to be seen. He knew that his uncle would come, he'd said he would after all, but this was he would have time to practice with the weapons a bit more before his uncle saw. He hoped that with a bit more practice he could maybe please his uncle. After a brief conversation with Mr. Dwalin, his mother and Kíli left. Even though he knew that it wouldn't have been allowed, it still hurt that Kíli didn't even ask to stay with him that day.  Thankfully he didn't have long to dwell on it.

"So, laddie," Dwalin asked, pulling Fíli from where he was still staring at his brother's retreating back, "what would you like to try today? Axes, swords . . . what?"

"Can . . . can I try the bow?" Fíli asked. It hadn't been one of his choices he'd been offered but he'd been fascinated by it ever since Mr. Dwalin had demonstrated it for him the day before. He knew that it wasn't exactly a traditional weapon, but that didn't change the allure it held for him.

"Course you can!" Dwalin replied clapping him on the shoulder before moving and lifting a bow from the cradle at the side of the field they were on. "That's what these sessions are for, after all. Can't teach you how to fight until I know what it is you like, now can I?"

"I suppose not," Fíli said warily, taking the bow from his cousin. Dwalin watched as Fíli turned it over in his hands, attempting to discern if there was a difference in the bow that would show him how he was supposed to hold it to use it, his face crinkling with displeasure as he did.

"Wondering which way's up?" Dwalin asked, looking at the young dwarf with a small smile. A smile that fell when the lad looked down in shame.

"I'm sorry," Fíli muttered, knowing that Mr. Dwalin had to think he was a complete simpleton. He couldn't even figure out how to _hold_ the bow. How did he expect shoot it if he couldn't even hold it?

"Whatever for, Lad?" Dwalin asked, his normally gruff demeanor disappearing in the face of a dwarfling in need of comforting. He didn't bother to mask his confusion as Fíli looked up at him hopefully. "You've never held a bow before, how could I expect you to know how to use it?"

When enough time had passed that Fíli realized his cousin expected an answer he gave one. "You couldn't?"he said tentatively.

"Damn right I couldn't," Dwalin replied before gently grasping Fíli's shoulder and leading him to the other edge of the field where there was a target set up. "Now," he said placing the bow in the young dwarf's hands and moving his limbs to the appropriate places, "all you have to do is look down the shaft and point it where you want it to go. Try to sight it in as quickly as possible because the longer you hold it back the less accurate you'll be. Give it a try."

Fíli nodded and tried to position himself like Mr. Dwalin had only moments before but as he pulled the string back towards his ear, the older dwarf's voice rang out.

"Stop!" Dwalin barked. He instantly regretted it when he saw Fíli flinch and look at him with sad eyes once more. He felt even more wretched when the lad spoke, his voice so desolate that it made the older dwarf ache for being the case of it.

"What did I do wrong?" the boy asked, looking at his own boots.

"The way you were holding the bow," Dwalin said gently, kneeling down so that he was on level with the dwarfling in an attempt to be less intimidating, "when you released the string it would have hit your arm. It wouldn't have done lasting harm but it would have stung something fierce, might even have drawn blood. What do you think your mother would have done if I brought you back scathed?"

"She'd have been cross with you," Fíli said with a small smile as he remembered the conversation from the night before and the large warrior admitting to fearing his mother.

"Aye, lad," Dwalin said softly. "That she would have. What do you say we do everything we can to keep you from being injured, eh?"

"I can do that," Fíli said, looking up once more.

"Good lad," the elder said standing once more and pointing Fíli back at the target. "Now, what do you say to giving that another try? I'll bet you can hit that target the first try." Fíli felt lighter than he'd felt all day at Dwalin's confidence in him.  He felt even better when the arrow he fired hit inside the outer ring and his cousin clapped him on the shoulder once more.

"Knew you could do it," the older dwarf said. "You're a natural, lad." Fíli felt as if his heart could soar. For the first time in his life he'd found something he was good at without having to work for it. As he lined up the next shot and the arrow flew into the target, he felt his apprehension about his uncle's visit disappearing. Surely even his uncle could find no fault in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the long hiatus! To my credit I had a very good reason. As you may know, I was finishing up school and expecting a baby. I'd meant to have this story written before she was born but she had other ideas. In short, I am now the proud mother of a ravenous one week old baby and she takes up a good deal of my time bt I am getting better at typing with one hand /:)


	20. Fili's Training and Dwalin's Promise

By the time Thorin showed up in the early afternoon, Fíli was reminding Dwalin of every dwarfling he'd ever put a weapon into the hands of. His eyes were bright, the blue depths sparkling with joy, and his laughter was as light as any lad's had ever been. That alone was enough to bring joy to the older warrior's heart but when the lad's abilities were added to it . . . Dwalin hadn't been so proud of a student in ages.

His own good mood was soiled a bit when Fíli's mood sobered with his uncle's arrival. In fact, the change in Fíli's demeanor was what told Dwalin that Thorin had arrived at all.

"Hello, Uncle," Fíli said pushing the bow behind him slightly. Dwalin turned to see Thorin looking at the bow in his nephew's hands as if it had personally offered him offence.

"Fíli," Thorin said nodding to him in greeting before turning and nodding to his cousin as well. "Have you had fun today, lad?"

"I have!" Fíli said before seeing his uncle's raised eyebrow. "And I've learned something, Uncle. It hasn't all been fun. Mr. Dwalin is an excelent teacher." He hoped that was what his uncle wanted to hear, but the way his uncle's lip quirked up on one side made him think he'd been wrong.

"Coaching my nephew to sing your praises already, Dwalin?" Thorin asked, his tone grave. Fíli offered Dwalin a sheepish smile and was about to deny having been coached when Dwalin laughed and threw an arm around Thorin.

"Of course!" he said. "Someone in your family has to appreciate my worth. Between you denying that I can best you and your sister threatening me . . . I had to start somewhere, didn't I. And the lad is young enough to be influenced into thinking the way I want him to, eh?"

"That he is," Thorin agreed. "Just remember that. The lad is still young and impressionable. Be careful what you teach him or I won't call his mother off."

"I'll keep that in mind," Dwalin said with a grimace. "However, so far I haven't influenced him adversely. Let him show you what I _have_ taught him." Thorin nodded and Fíli swallowed heavily. Despite how sure he'd been of his abilities only moments before, he could feel his hands shaking even as Dwalin nodded incouragingly and lightly nudged him towards the target. Fíli went to take a step forward but stopped when he heard his name.

"No, lad," Dwalin said when he turned to his cousin in confusion. "Take the shots from there."

"B-but, I've never shot from this far back," Fíli protested softly.

"You can do it, lad," Dwalin promised. "Trust me. Calm yourself and take the shot. You can do it."

Fíli nodded and turned to face the target once more. Even though he knew it was too far, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, just as Mr. Dwalin had told him to, and raised the bow, feeling his uncle's eyes on him the entire time. Taking a final breath and holding it, he drew back the arrow, holding it a moment to site it in and releasing it along with his breath. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as it hit the outer ring.

Encouraged by that hit, he pulled another arrow from the quiver and fired it as well. Which he did until the quiver was empty and the target was peppered with arrows. A couple had missed, but not by much and the vast majority were at least on the target, even if they weren't as close to the center as they'd been at closer range.

"Did you see, Uncle?" Fíli chirped setting down the bow and turning to his uncle, knowing that this time he had done well. His uncle was sure to be pleased with his accuracy. For once there would be approval in his uncle's eyes. "Did you see? I hit the target!"

Thorin had surveyed the target with the same searching gaze he always used. When a few seconds passed and there was no sign of approval, Fíli's heart began to sink. He didn't know what he'd done wrong but something wasn't right. It must have been the missed arrows. By the time his uncle had walked to the target, Fíli was already fighting tears. He could tell by the stiffness in his uncle's gait that Thorin was not impressed.

"Barely," Thorin replied, pulling one of the arrows from the target where it clung to the edge. "There is also no pattern to your shots. They are all over the board." He gestured at the wild spackle of arrows to prove his point. "Without a cluster there is no way to improve your aim." Dwalin watched as Fíli seemed to deflate a bit more with every word out of his uncle's mouth, until by the end his throat was working convulsively and it was clear to the older dwarf that the lad was trying not to cry.

"It's not bad for a first try, Thorin," Dwalin said, placing a hand on Fíli's shoulder in an attempt to ease the overly harsh criticism. "The lad  _did_  hit the target. That's better than most." Thorin hummed in response, looking unimpressed.

"It's alright," Fíli whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I didn't like the bow anyway," he continued, handing it to Dwalin, the expression on his face enough to break the older dwarf's heart. "I. . . I think I'd like to try swords tomorrow, can we?"

"Of course, laddie," Dwalin said, fighting the urge to pull the young dwarf to him, "and we can always come back and give the bow a bit more practice. If you'd like."

"No," Fíli had said, shaking his head. "Uncle's right. I'll never be good enough at it. May I go?" Dwalin nodded and watched as Fíli walked towards the changing room on the grounds.

It was everything that Fíli could do to keep his head up and his tears in until he was out of sight. Once he was within the confines of the building, he leaned against the wall and allowed himself a brief moment of disappointment with himself. Even though he wanted to, he didn't cry. Instead, he closed his eyes and fought the burning sensation in his throat. After all, his uncle was right. There had been no pattern, he never would have been an archer, despite how wonderful the bow had felt in his hands. No, it was better to find something he actually had skill at.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin was nowhere to be seen when Fíli reemerged from the changing room. Instead, Dwalin was standing there waiting for him.

"Where . . ." Fíli began looking around for his uncle and not seeing him.

"Had to get back to business," Dwalin replied gruffly. "Asked me to walk you home."

"You don't have to," Fíli said. "I can get home on my own."

"I don't doubt that you can, laddie," Dwalin offered. "All the same, I'll see you home safe. Come along." Fíli nodded and trotted along beside his cousin, feeling horrible. Not only was Dwalin having to be inconvenienced to return him home, but he saw it as an inconvenience. The length of his stride was enough to tell Fíli as much. He was shocked when, rather than dropping him at the gate, Dwalin walked him to the door and knocked.

"Just a moment," he heard his mother call from inside. Seconds later the door opened, revealing Dís' confused face that quickly turned into a smile at the sight of her cousin.

"Dwalin," she greeted, opening the door wider. "What brings you here?"

"Your brother asked me to see your lad home," he replied.

"Did he, now?" Dís asked, her brown eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Aye, he did," Dwalin repeated. Dís hummed in displeasure before she forced another smile and said, "Come in. In gratitude for bringing Fíli home, you must stay for supper."

"I couldn't do that, Dís," Dwalin protested. "It wasn't any trouble and—"

"I insist," Dís replied, her tone edging towards dangerous. "Now come in and tell me about my son's wonderful achievements today and what his uncle thought of them." Realizing that he had no option but to comply, Dwalin nodded.

"Alright," he agreed walking into their home. "I suppose I can stay for a bit."

At his cousin's acceptance of his mother's invitation, Fíli's mood soured even more. Wasn't it enough that his uncle knew he was a failure? Did Dwalin really have to tell his mother as well?

"Mother?" he asked quietly as she and Dwalin made themselves comfortable in the main room.

"Yes, Darling?" she replied turning to look at him rather than Dwalin, her expression softening as she did.

"I'm rather tired, and more than a bit dirty," Fíli said softly. "If it's fine with you, I'd . . . well, I'd like to take a bath and perhaps nap before supper. Can I?"

"Of course, Dear," she replied stroking his cheek before nudging him towards the bathroom. "I'll just be out here if you need me." Fíli nodded and walked off in the direction he'd been nudged. "Kíli, darling," Dís said, drawing the attention of her youngest who was attempting to show Dwalin his latest drawing, which Dwalin was praising. "Don't you think you need a bath as well?"

Kíli looked down at himself and turned his hands over, revealing ink blots on his forearms, before shaking his head. "No," he said in response to her skeptical glance. "I'm good. I bathed a few days ago."

Despite himself Dwalin let out a bark of a laugh at Kíli's reasoning. He could remember telling his mother the same thing many years ago. He wondered if it would go over any better with Dís than it had his own mother.

"Bath," Dís replied pointing the direction Fíli had gone. "Now," she added when it looked as if he would argue. Kíli looked at her for a moment hoping she'd change her mind but turned with a grumble and headed for the bath when she raised an eyebrow at his defiance.

"Stubborn lad you've got there," Dwalin said, amusement coloring his tone, once he knew Kíli could not hear.

Dís scoffed in response before smiling. "You have _no_ idea," she said, fondness dripping from every word. "And my brother is no help at all. He makes no secret of the fact that he finds Kíli's antics amusing."

"As if you don't," Dwalin replied, a smile on his face as well.

"Now, I never said that," she corrected. "I take great joy from both my sons, _however_ , I at least attempt to laugh at their bad behavior in private, _not_ where they can see. Thorin, on the other hand . . ." She trailed off, her eyebrows coming together.

"Speaking of Thorin," she said suspiciously, "where is my brother? He _did_ make it to Fíli's lesson, didn't he?" She knew that it was unfair of her to be cross with him for skipping, since Fíli had not wanted him there and she herself had hoped that he wouldn't make it, but she couldn't help it. In her heart she knew that had it been Kíli's lesson her brother would not only have made it, but would have most likely participated.

"He made it alright," Dwalin growled, his frustration with Thorin coming to the surface once more.

"What happened?" Dís sighed, taking in her cousins stormy expression and knowing that her brother had done something terrible for Dwalin to be cross with him. She was beginning to wonder if there was more to Fíli's desire to bathe than she'd thought and if sending Kíli in was such a wonderful idea after all.

At her question Dwalin let out a heavy sigh, unsure how to proceed. It was one thing to be cross with Thorin for how he reacted to his nephew's efforts, it was another thing entirely to gossip about it with his King's sister, and the mother of said-nephew. Especially in light of what had happened in the past. Dwalin knew that Thorin was still haunted by Frerin's death, but he didn't know how well Dís was coping. He didn't want to upset her unnecessarily.

"He was overly critical, wasn't he?" Dís asked, causing her cousin to jump. It almost seemed as if he'd forgotten she was there. He blinked at her a few times, his dark eyes showing confusion.

"How . . . how did you know that?" Dwalin eventually asked in shock.

"Educated guess," she replied. "He's always overly critical of Fíli. Claims he's not but . . . what happened?"

"Fíli had a bow," Dwalin began, "and Thorin . . . well you know that your brother . . . Frerin . . . well _he_ favored the bow, and—" he cut himself off when Dís groaned and fisted her braids in her hands. "Dís," he said reaching for her, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned—"

"How'd Fíli do?" she asked, looking up with sad brown eyes. "Honestly. How did he do?"

"Remarkably," Dwalin replied. "I swear, Dís. The lad was hitting the target at fifty paces on the first day. Not the center, mind, but the target."

"And Thorin?" she asked. "Did he think it was remarkable?"

"No," Dwalin sighed. "He . . . Dís, tell me, does . . . I mean . . . Fíli _is_ blonde, and—"

"Are you trying to ask me if my brother often attributes Frerin's characteristics and failings to my blonde son?" Dís asked, her eyes boring into her cousin. Dwalin wanted to retract his question under the pressure of that gaze, to lie and say that wasn't what he'd meant, but he couldn't do it. This was too important to ignore.

"Aye," he said. "I saw _fear_ in his eyes, Dís. Fear for your son, because of Frerin. Thorin . . . he, he asked me why I would allow Fíli to specalize in archery. Wanted to know what the lad would do in battle once he was out of arrows and had to go to a secondary. Seemed to think that Fíli'd have no chance . . . that it was what had killed Frerin."

"At least he didn't blame himself this time," Dís sighed. "And Fíli, how did he take it?"

"It upset him," Dwalin said. "and when I confronted Thorin about upsetting the lad—"

"NO!" Dís exclaimed shooting to her feet. "You _confronted_ him about it?"

"Course I did," Dwalin replied feeling affronted that she'd think he'd allow anyone to belittle her lad in front of him.

"No," she groaned falling back into her chain and placing her head in her hands with her elbows on her knees. "Why?" she breathed.

"Because it needed to be done," Dwalin replied. "You can't tell me you _allow_ him to degrade everything Fíli does or that you expect anyone else to do so."

"Yes," she said looking at him levelly, her glare no less icy than her brother's despite the warmer color, "I do."

"You can't be serious, Dís!" Dwalin retorted, growing angry with her. "Have you _seen_ what his words _do_ to the lad?!"

"Yes I have," she snarled. "And I do what I can to fix it. Have _you_ seen what confronting him about it does to Thorin?"

"Dís," he began, trying to calm the enraged female.

"Have you?" she demanded.

"I have," Dwalin replied. "I saw today. He was fine, distant but fine, but then I mentioned that Fíli is not Frerin and . . . he deflated, Dís. Looked as wounded as if I'd stabbed him. I haven't seen him like that in _decades_."

"I have," Dís replied. "Every _time_ he's confronted with the Fíli-Frerin issue. He falls into . . . just like he did after Frerin's death. He won't eat, won't leave his room. All he does is sit there and mope. He won't even speak to me sometimes. I can't bear to see him like that, Dwalin. It . . . if the people found out . . . he'd lose his throne and that would kill him just as surely as any knife."

"But, Dís . . . allowing him to continue as his is," Dwalin said, "It's _destroying_ Fíli."

"Don't you think I know that?!" she spat. "I _live_  with him, Dwalin. I gave _life_ to him. I _know_ my son. I see what Thorin's coolness does to him. And I do everything in my power to attempt to fix it. Didn't Balin tell you?"

"He told me to be gentle with the lad," Dwalin said, thinking back,  his brother had made it seem like he meant more than he was saying but he hadn't understood at the time. "This is what he meant, wasn't it? He _meant_ for me to offer him the praises that Thorin refuses to offer, didn't he?"

"Yes," Dís replied. "That's _exactly_ what he meant. We can't confront Thorin about this, not if we want him to continue to remain sane. Instead, we can only offer Fíli all the praises and love that Thorin denies him. It is all that we can do, do you understand me?"

"Dís," he sighed.

"Promise me," she said taking his hands in her own and staring into his eyes. " _Swear_ to me that you won't challenge Thorin on this again. That you will dote on Fíli when he deserves it instead and be gentle with your criticism when necessary. _Swear it._ "

Dwalin stared at her for a moment, weighing the costs and benefits, before he nodded. "I swear," he whispered, holding her eyes for a moment before looking away. She hummed before moving away and grabbing her cloak off the hook by the door.

"I'm going to go look for my brother," she said. "Stay with the lads, will you?" He nodded, still staring into the fire until he heard the door close behind her. Only then did he allow his eyes to move towards the ceiling. Wishing that he was deeper under the earth to help strengthen the prayer, he prayed to the Maker that he hadn't just doomed one soul to save the sanity of another.

**ooOO88OOoo**

When Dís returned a short time later leading her brother by his shoulders, Dwalin knew that even if it was the wrong choice, it was the only one they could make. Even when he'd agreed to it, he'd halfway believed that Dís had been over-reacting when she told him of the effect challenging Thorin's misconceptions about Fíli had on him. He saw now that she hadn't been. The only time Dwalin had seen his cousin so lost had been right after the Battle, when they found the body of his brother, and then it had only been until the pyres were lit. After that, though Thorin was distant, he seemed more like himself . . . mostly.

This time, there was no life in Thorin's eyes, no recognition. He was a meek shell of himself. It was then that Dwalin knew that even if what they were doing was wrong, there was no alternative. It was almost as if Thorin was gone. She seemed sure that she could return him to them, but even if Dís managed to pull him back this time, what would happen the next or the time after that? Dwalin knew that eventually even Dís would not be able to bring her brother back from wherever it was he went. When Dís returned from Thorin's room, Dwalin looked at her, seeing the lines of weariness on her face.

"How is he?' Dwalin asked, genuinely concerned.

"He'll be fine," she replied, ignoring his actual question. "Give him a few days and he'll be fine. Are you going to stay for supper? I need to go wake the lads. I don't mind if you stay, but if you do, I _must_ insist you say nothing about Thorin. They don't know about his slips and I don't intend to tell them."

"No," he said, rising and heading for the door. "Thank you, but I have plans with Balin." She nodded and followed him to the door.

"Send him my love," Dís said. "Thank you for watching the lads."

"It was no problem, Dís," he assured her before turning to leave, more than a bit disturbed by what had transpired under that roof that evening.

"Dwalin," Dís called when he'd only gone a few paces. He turned to look at her and saw a sheepish smile on her face, one that he was unable to return. "Try not to worry too much over Thorin. I swear he'll be fine." He didn't reply. After all, how could he agree with her when he knew that Thorin hadn't been fine for eighty-five years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are all, a new chapter. And as you can see from the fact that there's now a final number of chapters, this one is written in it's entirety. Now I just have a question; weekly updates or every other day until it's done? I'll let you have it at whatever rate you want :)


	21. Kili's Training and Lean Times

Five years later, Kíli's first day of training, Dwalin was _still_ wondering if he'd made the right decision. It was a question that had been haunting him off and on ever since the night he'd made it, but it came to a head once more when Thorin brought the lads. He hadn't spent much time around the younger lad and was worried that it would only be a repeat of the beginning of Fíli's training. His concern only grew when Kíli gravitated towards the bow on the rack.

"No, laddie," Dwalin said, gently taking the bow from him and putting it back on the rack and handing him a sword instead, remembering how poorly Thorin had reacted to Fíli using the bow. It was no secret to him that Kíli was Thorin's favorite and if he'd reacted so poorly to Fíli lifting a bow he hated to think what the sight of Kíli with one would do to him. It was this that caused him to start when Thorin spoke.

"Let the lad try," Thorin said, replacing the bow in his nephew's hands and nudging him towards the target and following after him. Dwalin watched with his blood boiling as Thorin knelt down and gently placed Kíli's hands in the proper places before watching the lad take his first shot, which went very wide. In five years of training he'd never seen Thorin take a hands-on approach to Fíli's training and the blatant favoritism irked him. But that anger was nothing compared to the rage that he felt when Thorin laughed and placed a hand on Kíli's shoulder.

"That was a good first shot, little one," the king said, drawing another arrow and handing it to his nephew. "Try again. I'm sure you'll hit it this time." Promise to Dís or no, this was more that Dwalin could tolerate. The lad hadn't even hit the target and was receiving praise where his brother, who had hit it from more than three times the distance, had been given only criticism, but before he could rage at Thorin, Fíli's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Will you . . . can I . . ." Fíli asked, looking between him and the rack of training weapons.

"Course I will, laddie," Dwalin said, answering the unasked question. "Swords, axes or knives?"

"Swords versus axes," Fíli replied, knowing that while he favored the twin swords his uncle had suggested, Dwalin preferred twin axes.

"Sounds fair," the elder agreed, grabbing the training axes off the rack and nodding towards the rack to signify that Fíli should take the swords before moving into the empty area set aside for sparring. As he always was, he was shocked at the change that came over the young dwarf when there was a weapon in his hand. While sparing, Fíli looked as he always should, proud, sure of himself, a true son of Durin. It was times like this that made Dwalin believe that he _had_ done the right thing five years before. After all, even if he was normally a bit too timid and self-depreciating, the ability to be self-assured was still in there and a little bit of humility could be good for a king. Fíli hadn't truly been sacrificed for Thorin's sake. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself, even as Kíli's laughter at his uncle's gentle teasing taunted him, whispering that he was lying to himself. It was a whisper that grew louder with every year that passed, and as the differences in the lads became yet more pronounced.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The summer of Fíli's fiftieth year, famine hit Ered Luin. Initially, work was still coming in, and through that, money, but the cost of food was such that despite the abundance of work, food was scarce. And as it had grown more scarce, so had jobs just as prices increased exponentially. Competition for available food and coin had become fierce as everyone tried to feed their families. Despite the best efforts of both Thorin and Dís, they couldn't find enough work and there just wasn't enough to go around. It was an uncomfortable truth, but one that they had been forced to face.

Dís swore as she stood from digging thorough the pantry. There was no way around it; she was going to have to go to the market before she could attempt lunch. What little she had in the pot would never feed them all, especially not with the way Kíli was _still_ growing. She sighed as she walked back into the kitchen. She hadn't wanted to go that day. Money was getting tight once more but there was no avoiding it. They had to eat. She only hoped that either she or Thorin would find more work soon.

"Fíli," she called softly, prompting him to look up from the book he was reading. "Watch the pot, Darling. Do not let it burn. There. . . there's nothing else if it does. I . . . I need to . . . I need to go to the market."

"We can go, Mother," Fíli offered, sensing her reluctance if not understanding the reason behind it.

"No, Darling," she replied. "I have to do this. it's not just a simple trip, I'm afraid."

"What do you need?" Kíli asked, wondering what she could need from the market that would make her sound so weary.

"Oats, barley, something to add to the pot," Dís replied, feeling her cheeks color with embarrassment. She knew that the boys were old enough now to know what that meant, as would the vender. Not that she hadn't spent most of her life in poverty, but it still stung her pride to have to resort to fillers to ensure that her boys' stomachs didn't go empty.

"Which one?" Kíli asked. "We can get it."

"I don't know yet," she said feeling a bit agitated that she was having to explain it. And she felt horrible for feeling agitated when none of this was their fault any more than it was her own. There was just no work to be had nearby and there was a large treaty coming up that meant that Thorin couldn't leave. 

"Whichever's cheaper, right?" Fíli chimed in, trying to give the right answer and feeling bad when his mother flinched.

"Yes," Dís said in a strangled sort of voice, her heart aching that Fíli knew that answer. "I going to buy whichever's cheaper. I may be gone a while."

"I can handle that, Mother," Fíli said simply, wanting to spare his mother having to see the knowing look in the vender's eyes. "Mr. Balin has been teaching me about bartering. Can I try?"

"Fíli," she sighed. She didn't want to shoot him down, but this was not the time for him to practice skills. Not when every coin was so precious. But it was so rare for him to be so assertive. She was torn.

"Please, Mother," he said simply. "I can do this. You don't have to go. I can do this." He waited patiently as she thought it over.

"Fine," she said eventually, the knowledge that Fíli was intelligent and keen deciding her. "Take Kíli. Get him to help you carry what you buy. But, Fíli, if they want too much . . . don't buy it. I'll think of something else, alright?"

"Alright, Mother," Fíli said standing and taking the coins she offered him. "I won't let you down." She offered him a sad smile and placed a hand on his cheek.

"You never could, Darling," she promised. He kissed her cheek in farewell and turned to put on his boots, Kíli right on his heels.

"Kíli," Dís called as an after-thought. He turned and looked at her, his brown eyes far too wide and innocent looking for her to trust. Even so she couldn't help by smile at him.

 "Keep out of trouble, my little terror," she said with a laugh.

"Always," he said, offering her a crooked smile before putting on his own boots and following his brother out the door. Once they'd left, she sat down at the table wondering just what she'd done to deserve such considerate children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looks like it'll be closer to every other day than once a week :) Hope you enjoy!


	22. Cruel Rumors and Secrets

Fíli was both excited and nervous as they made their way to the market. He was thrilled that his mother was willing to trust him with this but also worried that he would make a mistake. Kíli, however, didn't seem to be affected by his brother's mood. He was walking backwards, tossing a small rock in the air.

"Good idea, Brother," Kíli said with a laugh.  "This was a good way to get us out of the house that isn't lessons or an outing with Uncle. Now we can have a bit of fun."

"We're not out here for fun, Kíli," Fíli replied with an indulgent smile. "We're on an errand for Mother. She needs us to come back soon so that she can finish cooking."

"Come on, Fee," Kíli said with a smirk. "She even said this might take awhile. We've got time for a bit of fun."

"Kee," Fíli sighed. While what his brother was offering sounded good Fíli's conscious was against it. "What are we going to do for fun, eh? It's not like we can leave the settlement without Uncle, the guards won't let us out. What is there to do in town?" He felt a bit bad as Kíli's shoulders fell at his logic.

"I suppose you're right," Kíli sighed. "Let's just buy the grain and get home."

"It's better that way, Kee," Fíli said patting him consolingly. "Maybe if we do a good job Uncle will let us go with him when he goes to look for work. He's about to have to leave."

"Do you really think so?" Kíli asked, his face brightening. Even if they'd been out of the settlement on outings, they'd never been to a town of men, despite the fact that Fíli was training to be a smith and Kíli would be a valuable asset to the group—with his archery skills to bring down game.

"Maybe," the elder replied with a shrug. "You can always ask him." He knew they'd have a better chance of going if Kíli asked than if he did, and he'd been trying to figure out how to get his brother to ask if they could go for days now.  

"I think I will. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Kíli asked wistfully. "I've never seen a Man before but I hear they're tall. Taller even than uncle. I've even heard that their _children_ are taller than we are." Fíli had to smile at the excitement in his brother's voice at seeing children that were taller than him.

"That's what they say," he agreed with a shrug. His smile turned into a smirk at his brother's next words as he imagined his uncle's face if he heard them.

"Do you think we might run into an Elf?" Kíli asked nearly bouncing in place. "I hear they're taller _even_ than Men."

"Your mother would know," Fíli's smile fell as a snide voice spoke from the alley they'd just passed.

"Excuse me?" Kíli asked turning to see who had spoken, his eyes dancing with rage at the slur against his mother, one he'd heard countless times behind his back but never directly to his face like this.

"I said that your mother would know," the same voice replied as Borin, one of their classmates closer in age to Fíli stepped out, flanked on both sides by his dark-haired cousins.

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" Fíli demanded, feeling his temper rise to the surface at what he perceived to be an insult to his mother and perhaps his brother. This wasn't the first time he'd heard rumors that Kíli was half-elf, but it _was_ the first time anyone had dared to say it directly to either of them to his knowledge.

"Nothing where you're concerned," Borin replied with a shrug. "Everyone knows that Víli was _your_ father. You look too much like him for anything else to be true. But this one . . . there's no way he's all dwarf."

"You take that back," Fíli said, his voice dropping and becoming deadly. "My mother would not have sullied her marriage bed in such a way. Kíli and I share a mother _and_ a father."

"Are you so sure?" Borin asked reaching across Fíli to run his face over the patchy fuzz that still covered Kíli's cheek despite the fact that he was nearly forty-five. Kíli batted his hand away with a glare, only to have Borin's hand close around his wrist and twist it behind him. Kíli winced as the larger dwarfling pulled him against his chest and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to turn his head so they could all see his lack of beard.

"Look at this," Borin said. "I've seen newborns with better beards." Fíli felt anger burn in his gut at what the other boy dared to do to his brother and started forward only to stop when Borin tightened his hold causing Kíli to wince once more. With a growl, Fíli stayed where he was. He knew that he was stronger than Borin alone but not with Kíli between them and Borin's cousins there beside. He couldn't fight their way out of this.

"He's all dwarf," Fíli snarled, his chest heaving with fury at how helpless he felt. "Mother and Uncle have both told me so."

"So you questioned it too," Dorin, one of Borin's cousins, said triumphantly.

"Never," Fíli spat, his blue eyes begging Kíli to believe him as pain and betrayal began filling his brother's eyes. "I never doubted it. Don't listen to them, Kíli. I never doubted it, I swear."

"Then why'd they tell you?" Dorin demanded. "Not that it matters. Of course they'd say that. It's not as if our King could admit that his sister is a elf-whore and her son—his heir—a half-elf _bastard_. You do have to admit that it explains his beard, though."

"And his height," Glorin, the other cousin, chimed in. "Even if the king is one of the tallest dwarves around, _he's_ still too tall and thin. Just what you'd expect from a mongrel."

"Kíli's _not_ a mongrel," Fíli said firmly. "And our mother is not a whore. Just how do you think our uncle would feel about what you've dared to say about his sister and heir? It wouldn't take much for him to find out."

"Of course," Borin scoffed. "Hide behind your titles and your uncle. It's not as if you could win any other way."

"Release my brother and I'll show you just how well I can win on my own," Fíli promised. "I don't need my uncle's title or my own to beat you. I can do it on my own merit."

"And if you can't will you admit that your brother is a mongrel and your mother a whore?" Borin demanded.

"Never," Fíli snarled. "I would never admit to something that's not true."

"Then I don't see why I should let him go," Borin replied, twisting Kíli's arm just a bit higher to elicit a squeak of pain that Kíli tried to disguise as a cough, but Fíli heard it for what it was and it made his blood boil.

"Let him go or you'll regret it," Fíli threatened darkly. "And don't you _dare_ hurt him again."

"And just what are you going to do about it?" Borin asked coldly. "There's three of us and one of you."

"Um, Borin," Glorin said, hoping that Fíli wouldn't hear him, but he did. "I'm fine with tormenting the mongrel but . . . the crown prince. I can't do that, Cousin. I just . . . I can't."

"Kíli's not a mongrel," Fíli snarled, rounding on Glorin. "And I assure you, assaulting him will land you in trouble with our uncle far more rapidly than touching me ever could. Kíli's his favorite, even if I'm the first heir."

"Borin?" Dorin breathed wondering if Fíli had told the truth and they had just tormented the favorite heir of their king while insulting his sister. If that was the case . . . Dorin felt fear flood his veins. While he'd never seen Thorin angry he'd heard enough tales and seen enough training bouts to know that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of such anger.

"He's lying," Borin scoffed, rolling his eyes at the fear he could hear in his cousin's voice. There was no way that the king would pick _Kíli_ as a favorite. The dwarfling, mongrel or no, was a failure, especially when compared to Fíli. Thorin was pragmatic enough to not choose a failure as a favorite.

"Am I?" Fíli asked with a humorless laugh as he admitted aloud what he'd always known in his heart to be true. "Would you like to take that up with my uncle when Kíli or I tell him what happened today?"

"Let's just go," Dorin said, placing his hand on Borin's arm. "I don't want to risk it. Let him go. Let's just leave him alone. What's it matter if he's a half-breed. It's not like he'll ever rule anyway."

"I suppose it doesn't," Borin said bitterly, releasing Kíli and shoving him into Fíli. "Not like we can prove it anyway. Even if everyone already knows it." Fíli caught his brother and glared at Borin over Kíli's shoulder as he walked away. Though this looked like a surrender there was something in the other dwarf's eyes that he didn't trust in the slightest. He had a feeling this was far from over. He glared after them until they were gone, only then did he turn his attention to Kíli.

Kíli wouldn't look at him and was still stiff in his arms, though no tears were falling. What worried Fíli though, was the way he had the arm that Borin had twisted behind him against his chest and was curled around it protectively.

"Let me see," Fíli said reaching for it only for Kíli to pull out of his grip and glare at him through his hair, pain and betrayal in his brown eyes.

"Was it true?" Kíli breathed, his eyes never leaving his brothers.

"What they said?" Fíli replied with a shrug. "Of course not. Now let me see your arm."

"Are you sure?" Kíli asked again, his eyes boring into his brother as if attempting to mine the truth from Fíli's mind by sheer force of will alone.

"Kíli, this isn't the first time someone's said that," Fíli said soothingly. "They've been saying it forever. Mother says it's not true, Uncle says it's not true. I say it's not true but . . . I don't know. Not really. I wasn't there but it doesn't matter either way. Even if it _is_ true, what does it matter? I love you. Mother loves you. _Uncle_ loves you. Isn't that enough?" A sudden smile split Kíli's face.

"It is," he agreed with a smile. "What do they know anyway?"

"Nothing," Fíli agreed holding out his hand for his brother's arm once more. This time Kíli offered it freely. Fíli looked over it carefully but nothing seemed to be broken. It was a little red where Borin's hand had gripped him, but it didn't even look like it'd bruise.

"Looks fine," Fíli said releasing him and pulling his sleeve back down. "Does it hurt?" Kíli rotated his shoulder and wiggled his fingers.

"Just a bit but I'll be fine," he replied. "Thanks to you. That was a great lie you came up with. Me being Uncle's favorite." Fíli's smile fell at the last bit but he forced it back on his face.

"Yeah," Fíli said. "Guess that's why they say I'm the smart one, huh?" He hoped Kíli couldn't hear the strain in his voice when he spoke. And if he did he didn't show it.

"I never would have thought of it," Kíli said clapping him on the shoulder and steering him towards the market once more. "And you said we wouldn't find any entertainment in town."

"But you knew better, didn't you?" Fíli asked, throwing his arm around Kíli's shoulder. "Did you get your fill of excitement for the day."

"You know better than that, Brother," Kíli replied with a laugh, leaning his cheek against Fíli's arm. "I never have my fill of excitement."Fíli said nothing in response but just shook his head and continued their search for grain.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It took them less time than they'd thought it would to find someone selling oats at a reasonable price and negotiate for it. Fíli was feeling quite proud of himself as they made their way home with enough oats for a week and coin left over. When they were nearly home, Fíli stopped his brother with a hand on his arm.

"Kíli," he said quietly. "Promise me you will _never_ tell Mother or Uncle about what happened in the market."

"Why not?" Kíli asked looking at him in confusion. "We didn't do anything wrong. You didn't even get in a fight. It's not like we'd be in trouble for it."

"No, but nothing good will come of it either," the elder replied. "All that could happen is that Mother will get her feelings hurt because of what they said about you and her and Uncle will get mad. And there's nothing either of them can do to make it stop. Not really. You noticed that they've never said anything to you about it before. They'll never do it in front of Mother or Uncle. So let's just keep it between us, alright?" When he finished speaking, he extended the arm that he'd been using to steady his sack of grain to his brother. Kíli thought about it a moment before he nodded.

"Just between us," he promised gripping Fíli's forearm.

"Just between us," Fíli repeated before releasing Kíli and heading for the gate once more.


	23. All's Fair in War

For about a week it did seem as that was going to be the end of it. Neither Borin nor his cousins said or did anything to either Fíli or Kíli and Dorin and Glorin were actually quite cordial to both of them, even offering Kíli a small bow when they saw him and Thorin walking to the forge one day. Kíli couldn't help but smile at them. No one ever offered him his own bow. Fíli got them, his uncle got them and even his mother got them but never him. Even when he burned his hand attempting to help his uncle it didn't dampen his mood, though his uncle seemed quite worried about it. Despite the fact that it was barely red and only had one little blister, Thorin refused to let him help for the rest of the day, insisting that he sit with his hand in the water barrel instead.

All of that changed one day at weapons training. They'd showed up just as they always did and warmed up for training by sparring just as they always had, but this day there were no training weapons visible once they were admitted into the arena.  There was some confused muttering among the trainees until Dwalin stepped into the middle of the arena.

"Listen up, lads," he called prompting instant silence. "Today we're going to do things a bit differently. As you've no doubt noticed, there are no weapons. Instead we're going to be practicing with a different weapon." There was only a second of murmuring before Dwalin cut them off.

"Anyone, what is the one thing predictable about warfare?" Dwalin asked. Fíli waited a moment to give someone else a chance to answer but when it was clear that no one else intended to do so he raised his voice.

"That it's unpredictable," Fíli called.

"Very good, lad," Dwalin replied offering him a rare half-smile. "That's it. War is only predictable in that it is unpredictable. So, someone tell me this. You're in the middle of a battle, you're shield is broken. Your sword, ax, whatever, it's either broken or gone. You're exhausted and suddenly another enemy is before you. What do you do?"

"You die?" one of the class called out.

"That's a possibility," Dwalin agreed. "And a very real one. But what do you do before that?"

"Try to take him with you," Kíli called from beside Fíli.

"And how are you going to do that?" Dwalin asked moving in on Kíli and looming over him before grasping his upper arm and pulling him into the arena with him. "Come on, show me. What are you going to do to take me with you when I kill you?"

"I'll look for anything I can use as a weapon," Kíli said backing away and using his lithe build to dance out of Dwalin's reach. "While making sure that you don't come close enough to touch me."

"Do you see any weapons, lad?" the older warrior asked gesturing at the smooth earth around them.  "Anything you can use?"

"No," Kíli replied, his eyes going wide as he realized there was nothing.

"And how long can you keep this up?" Dwalin asked lunging after the young heir. "This avoidance? You are faster than me, but how long can you run from me?"

"Long as I need to," Kíli panted, a bit tired already from his spar with his brother a bit before and wearing down under the larger dwarf's relentless pursuit.

"You don't believe that," Dwalin replied. "And if you do, you're a fool. Let's change the game a bit, shall we? Let's say I still have a weapon." Before Kíli could react, Dwalin pulled a stave from his back and began wielding it like a sword. "Now what do you do, lad?" Fíli watched as Kíli's eyes went wide before his brother's face scrunched up in distaste.

"No, Kíli, no," Fíli breathed, knowing just what his brother intended to do and knowing that it would never work. He closed his eyes and turned his head unwilling to watch Dwalin defeat his brother, even if he knew that Kíli would be fine.

Of course, Kíli didn't hear Fíli's warning and even if he had he probably still would have done what he did. Dwalin had a 'sword' not a knife. If he could get close enough . . . well swords require a bit of room to be effective. If he could get close enough he just might stand a chance. Without warning, he quit backing away and changed direction, sprinting _towards_ his cousin only to bounce off Dwalin's chest with a grunt. Rather than allow him to fall, his cousin grabbed his wrist and brought it across Kíli's own chest, pulling Kíli's back to his front. Kíli's free hand came up to grab at the arm now around his throat, just tight enough to make a point without actually hurting him.

"Nice try, laddie," Dwalin breathed in his ear, not the least bit out of breath, "but you're too small to be trying brute strength attacks like that. Your brother or uncle might stand a chance with something like that but you . . . use your head! I'm more that twice your size. Now try to get free."

"I don't want to hurt you," Kíli panted out.

"I'm trying to kill you, laddie," Dwalin replied brightly. "Do your worst. I will." Kíli tensed to bring his boot down on Dwalin's foot but stopped.

"It's not right," he muttered. "It's not fair."

"This is war," Dwalin replied. "There is no "fair" as far as the enemy's concerned. There is just those that live and those that die. If a dirty trick will save your life use it. The orcs will." Kíli closed his eyes once more before tipping his head forward and using the extra space to drive it back into Dwalin's chest. The move left him dazed, but it also caused the larger warrior to loosen his hold so that Kíli could get his teeth on Dwalin's arm.

"That's it, lad!" Dwalin said. "But it'll take more than that to get loose." Knowing what he had to do and hating the idea of doing it, Kíli used the extra room he'd created to spin, twisting his own arm behind him in the process so that he was facing his cousin.

"I'm sorry," he said, his brown eyes filled with regret as he looked up at his cousin and drove his knee into his groin. Dwalin groaned in response and released Kíli before dropping to his knees. As he watched his cousin go down, Kíli stood there, shoulders hunched and hand halfway extended, unsure what would happen if he touched his cousin at the moment. That really had been a low blow.

"Are you alright," he asked sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I know that was wrong but it was all that I could think of and you told me to do whatever I could to be free."

"That was a cheap shot!" one of his classmates called out angrily. "That's against the rules!"

"Trust _Kíli_ , to be the one to break them," Borin scoffed.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Fíli demanded. "Kíli—"

"There's no way you can defend _that_ ," Borin retorted. "In case you didn't see, he kneed him in the groin. That's indefensible."

"No," Dwalin panted, coughing and wincing as he rose to his feet once more. "He did exactly what I told him to. You all just learned a lesson. In true battle there are no rules. Anything you can do to get an edge on your opponent is fair. Even _that._ "

"Thank you, Kíli," Dwalin said offering the dark-haired heir a tense smile. "Rejoin the others." Kíli nodded and trotted back to his brother's side, feeling the continued derision of his classmates as he did so. Or maybe it was his own conscience he could feel. Even if Dwalin said it was fair that had still felt foul to him. With a smirk he wondered what his uncle would think about him kicking Dwalin _there_.

"Now," Dwalin said, his tone and breathing having returned to normal, "Each of you is going to try this. You will pair off and attempt to get one another to yield. You can pick your own partners but your partner has to be within a decade of your own age and I have to approve it. I won't have you big lads picking on the little ones. So, who's first?" No one volunteered, unsure just what the rules were in this new training and not wanting to be the first to try them. After more than a minute had passed Dwalin sighed.

"Cowards," he muttered before raising his voice. "Fíli," he called, feeling a bit bad when the lad looked up at him with startled blue eyes, "pick a partner." Fíli looked over his classmates for a moment before a small smile stretched across his face. He knew just the one. After all, they did have a question still existing between them over which one would win in a fight.

"Borin," Fíli said turning back to Dwalin. "I pick Borin." Dwalin eyed them for a moment. They were both about the same size and they were within the same decade, even if Borin was three years older.

"Alright," Dwalin said, nodding his approval. "Borin, Fíli let's get started."

"What are the rules?" Borin asked as he made his way to the large dwarf's side.

"When one of you yields, stop," Dwalin replied. "That's the only rule."

"That's it?" Fíli asked, unsure if this was such a good idea after all. Borin had already proved that he was willing to fight dirty when he'd outnumbered them and used Kíli as a shield. Did Fíli really want to stoop to his level.

"That's it," Dwalin agreed backing out of the way. "And whoever wins can pick another partner or step down and let a new pair try. That's what you get for winning. Begin."

For a moment the two of them circled one another, neither quite sure just how to start such a confrontation. They'd sparred enough times to have at least a basic knowledge of the weaknesses and strengths of the other with weapons, but they'd never grappled before. Fíli had wanted to wait for Borin to make the first move and use the other dwarf's momentum against him, but it seemed that he was never going to get around to it. With a huff of frustration, Fíli launched himself at the larger dwarfling. Rather than attempt to avoid the impact like he'd anticipated, Borin stood his ground and caught Fíli's hands in his own. They grabbled for a time, neither of them actually strong enough to gain the upper hand and break the other's hold.

"I'm glad you picked me," Borin hissed eventually.

"Why?" Fíli ground out. "So that when I defeat you everyone can see?"

"No," the other dwarfling said, a sadistic smirk crossing his features. "So that once I've trounced you and shown you that you truly are no better than your title I can challenge that mongrel you call a brother."

"Don't you dare touch Kíli," Fíli snarled.

"Oh, I'll touch him, alright," Borin replied, seeing that he was angering Fíli and hoping to force the prince into doing something foolish in his rage. He knew that if he tried to fight Fíli head-on the other dwarfling's intelligence would be a difficulty but if he could anger him . . . rage left little room for logic. And he was almost there. Just a bit more and Fíli would be gone and he would win.

"Tell me," he whispered, "do you think his little half-elf bones will hold up in a fight? I don't think they will. When I had his arm in my hand the other day I felt them give. I'll bet I could break him." He felt a surge of triumph as Fíli's blue eyes filled with murderous rage. Victory was his.

What he hadn't counted on was the extra strength that rage would lend the blonde dwarf. Fíli was strong on a normal day, but with fear for his brother rampaging through his veins he truly became a force to be reckoned with. With a primal roar he broke free from Borin's hold and tackled the other dwarfling to the ground, landing on his chest and pinning his arms with his knees before his fists began raining down blows. After the first few, Borin knew that he'd made a mistake. Try as he might he couldn't be free of the other dwarfling. He'd pushed too far and there was no way he could come out on top.

"I yield!" Borin called out fear making his voice shrill as he tried to turn his face so that Fíli's blows fell in less tender areas. Rather than stop as he'd anticipated, Fíli continued to pummel him. It took the combined forces of Dwalin and Glóin to pry Fíli off Borin and even once they had the blonde heir continued to claw like a creature possessed in an attempt to resume his beating of Borin. 

"Lad! Fíli!" Dwalin roared, getting down into his face while Glóin restrained him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Let me go!" Fíli screamed, his voice sounding feral. "I'll kill him! I swear I will!"

"Nobody's killing anybody," Dwalin replied, his blood running cold at the anger that was coming off the blonde. He'd never imagined Fíli capable of such violence. It was a rather chilling sight. It was made no less chilling when he turned to check on the other dwarfling. It didn't look good. Borin was lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes already beginning to swell shut.

"Get him out of here," Dwalin called to Glóin before kneeling beside Borin and checking him over. He heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the lad's breath against his cheek. Fíli hadn't killed him outright, though there was still a risk. When he pulled the lad's eye open he was pleased to see the pupil react to light. That was a good sign that he would survive but the intent behind the attack still left him chilled. Even if he hadn't managed it, Fíli had meant to kill him. And he'd set out to do it with his bare hands.

"You two," Dwalin called to two of the other warriors milling around. "Take him to Óin. Be gentle. We don't know what damage has been done." Once he was sure that they would listen, he turned back to his students. All of their faces registered shock and some of them were a troublesome shade of white or green.

"You lot go home," he said sadly. "We're done for the day." As they moved to follow his directions, a thought occurred to him. "Kíli, Dorin, Glorin, I'd like to talk to the three of you. Stay." Once the rest of the class was gone, he turned to them.

"Any of you able to tell me what that was about?" he demanded.  Dorin and Glorin shifted uncomfortably but it was Kíli who spoke.

"There's nothing to tell," he said, his promise to his brother burning in his mind.

"Is that so?" Dwalin asked taking in the shiftiness of the other boys and what he knew about Fíli. It didn't take a genius to know that Kíli was lying.  His curt nod and the way he refused to make eye contact said it clearly.

"Really?" Dwalin asked "You honestly expect me to believe that nothing led to _that_?" With a growl he gestured to where the pool of blood was darkening the dirt of the arena. "You expect me to believe that your brother, that _Fíli_ did that without reason?"

"I . . . I do," Kíli breathed, his clinched fists and shallow rapid breathing giving away the lie. It hurt him to defame his brother as he was, but Fíli had made him promise not to tell. He was only keeping a promise. Fíli would be the one to defend himself. He knew it.

"Don't lie to me, lad," Dwalin growled. "Thorin might let you get away with it but _don't_ lie to me. Not now and not about this. What made him do it?"

"I can't tell you," Kíli said, looking levelly into Dwalin's eyes, his brown eyes serious. "I can't tell you what may have led to it and I don't know why he did what he did today." Dwalin stared at his cousin for a moment before he nodded.

"Fine," he said. "So you do know what there was between them and you won't tell." Kíli looked away and nodded. "What about you two?" he asked turning to the others. "Do you know anything about this." They looked at Dwalin unsure of what to say as Kíli refused to tell. A subtle shake of the brunette heir's head decided them.

"No, sir," Dorin said, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt even as he told a bold-faced lie to the intimidating dwarf before him.

"What about you?" Dwalin demanded, his expression dark as he turned to Glorin. "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Glorin gasped. Dwalin stared at the them, alternating his glare between the three. He knew that they were all lying and knew more than they were letting on but it was equally clear to him that they had no intention of telling him what they knew.

"Fine," he said eventually. "You two go home. Straight home. Kíli, you stay right there. I'm going to go talk to your brother and then I'll escort you both home." Dwalin didn't wait to see if his orders were obeyed before he turned to go into the armory where Glóin had taken Fíli.

Dwalin wasn't sure what he would see when he entered the armory but the silence that he heard made him fear for the young heir. He knew that Glóin would have done whatever was necessary to prevent Fíli from returning to finish off the other lad and he feared what that may have taken. What he wasn't expecting was for Fíli to be sitting on the ground, fully conscious and sullenly staring at the wall.

"Has he told you why he did it?" Dwalin asked. Glóin shook his head.

"Hasn't said a word since he quit raging," he continued. "Just been sitting there staring at the wall." Dwalin sighed and knelt down in Fíli's line of sight taking his cousin's chin in his hand when Fíli tried to look away.

"Look at me, lad," Dwalin ordered. Fíli's eyes flicked to his own, rebellion burning in their blue depths for the first time in Dwalin's memory. "Tell me why you did it." Rather than reply, Fíli gave a sad laugh and looked away.

"Listen," Dwalin tried again. "I know you had a reason so just tell me what it was. What happened to cause you to go off like that?"

"Why'd something have to cause it?" Fíli breathed. "Can't I just have done it?"

"No, Fíli," Dwalin replied shaking his head sadly. "You can't've. I refuse to believe that you assaulted a classmate like that for no reason. But if you won't tell me why, I can't help you. If there's a good enough reason this can just go away but if you won't tell me . . . I'll have to tell your uncle what happened today. And with what you said when you were drug off him, this isn't just assault. It's attempted murder, lad."

"Then tell him," Fíli said, tears in his voice. "I have no reason I can give you. Let Uncle do what he must."

"Fine," Dwalin growled out, deciding that he would be a bit rough in hopes of scaring Fíli into telling the truth. "If you won't help yourself, I can't help you. If you want to be treated like a criminal then I can do that too." With that he stood and hauled Fíli to his feet by his upper arm and began marching towards the door, his steps far too long for his shorter cousin to keep up with easily, causing Fíli to have to jog beside him or be dragged. With a sigh, Dwalin slid to a stop and grabbed a length of rope from the wall. Fíli said nothing until he picked up the lad's wrist and began tying a knot around it.

"Mr. Dwalin, what—" Fíli asked, looking up at him, confusion and shock in his eyes.

"You refuse to behave like an innocent dwarf and leave me no choice but to treat you as a criminal," Dwalin said sharply, disliking what he was doing but hoping that by tying him he could convince Fíli to tell the truth and spare himself a worse punishment.

"Give me the other one," Dwalin ordered. Fíli hesitated. "Give it to me or I _will_ take it," he threatened. With what could only be described as a sob Fíli placed his left hand behind his back and allowed Dwalin to tie it in place.

"Come on then," the older dwarf ordered taking his cousin's arm once more and setting off towards the arena to collect Kíli and take them home. Fíli could feel panic beginning to grip his chest from the moment that Dwalin had bound his wrists and his panic only grew stronger with each passing moment. The sight of Kíli's shocked expression only made it worse as he was marched to his brother's side.

"Come, Kíli," Dwalin snapped. "I'm taking the two of you home."

"But Mr. Dwalin, why . . . untie him. Please," Kíli begged, refusing to move as he looked at his brother. He couldn't bear to see Fíli bound and Dwalin holding him like he was dangerous. Fíli wasn't dangerous.

"Can't do that, lad," Dwalin replied. "Now walk."

"But the people in town," Kíli began.

"Already know what he did," Dwalin said, feeling bad about the embarrassment that this would cause the young heir. All it took was a glance at the blood still on the arena to tamp down that sympathy. Fíli wasn't behaving as if he were innocent, Dwalin couldn't treat him like he was.

"But—"

"It's fine, Kíli," Fíli whispered, cutting his brother off. "Mr. Dwalin's just doing his job. Let's go home." Even though he said it was fine, it took a sharp tug on his arm from his cousin to get him to step out the gate of the training grounds. He kept his head down as they made their way through town, keeping his eyes on his feet but he knew that it was no good. With his hair there was no chance that they could mistake him for another dwarfling. The shame of it almost made him tell Dwalin what had happened, but he could not bring himself to tell something that would cause his mother embarrassment, not to spare himself. It never occurred to him that having her son paraded through the town bound like a common criminal would shame her more than any rumor repeated by a dwarfling ever could.

 


	24. Crime and Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> Just a heads up, this chapter contains corporal punishment ~~most possibly~~ nearly certainly crossing the line into outright child abuse. As most of you know, I don't usually bother with warnings but my rule for them is if it upset me and it's not something that I have personally experienced then it will more than likely be triggering for someone who has experienced it. That said, I was more than a bit upset while writing this chapter and the material contained herein may be triggering for some readers. Skipping this chapter will not take too much from the story or make what follows unintelligible. If you do not think this is something you can handle, pm me and I will tell you of all the important developments that come out of it without any of the gory details.

Dís was startled by a knock on the door. It was far too earlier for her boys to be out of practice yet and at any rate they never knocked, they just came bursting through the door. Dusting her hands off on her apron before removing it, she walked to the front door.

"Hello?" she said opening it. The sight that met her made her blood run cold. Fíli was standing there, his face and clothing splattered with blood. More shocking even than that, was the death grip Dwalin had on his upper arm and the sternness of her cousin's features. That, and Kíli's shocked, pale face.

"Dwalin . . . Fíli . . . what?" she tried to form a coherent question but one wouldn't come.

"Dís," Dwalin said sadly.

"What . . . why is he . . . are you hurt?" she asked bending slightly to inspect him. It was only then that she noticed that his hands were bound behind his back. Anger at her cousin for binding her son warred with shock in her veins and left her feeling faint.

"It's not his, Dís," Dwalin said sharply. "It's Dorin's."

"Dorin? Forin's boy? But . . . "

"Fíli nearly killed him at practice today," Dwalin said squeezing Fíli's arm and causing the boy to flinch. "Don't know what started it, looked like a normal enough bout but when he went down and yielded, Fíli refused to stop. I thought he'd killed him by the time we pulled him off until the other lad groaned."

"No," Dís breathed, unable to believe that Fíli—her sweet little Fíli—could be capable of such a thing. "Fíli . . . why?" Rather than reply, Fíli looked at where the door met to floor. He couldn't stand to see the disappointment in his mother's eyes but he also could bear to tell her why he'd done it. He couldn't hurt her that way.

"He wouldn't tell me why he'd done it either," Dwalin said. "Won't even look at me."

"Fíli," she tried again, hating the waver she heard in her own voice. "Please. Please tell me." She felt as if someone had grabbed her heart from her chest when Fíli only turned his head further from her. She felt tears prickling her eyes at his refusal. She _knew_  there was a reason he'd done it. There had to be.

"Dís," Dwalin said, pulling her attention to him. She jumped, having almost forgotten her cousin was there. "I . . . I have to tell Thorin now. You know what this means." Dís nodded her head, sniffing back tears.

"I understand," she said, her voice barely audible. "We . . . we'll wait here." Dwalin nodded and nudged Fíli through the door, Kíli following right on his heels. Dís managed to keep her composure until she shut the door, only the tremor in her hands revealing just how upset she was. As soon as the door was latched her facade fell. With a sob she grabbed Fíli's shoulders and pressed him against the wall, dropping to her knees in front of him.

"Fíli, look at me," she ordered. Fíli cringed. He didn't want to look at her. He could hear the tears in her words and didn't actually want to see them in her eyes. Not when they were his fault. But at the same time, he could ignore a direct order from his mother. With a sigh, he reluctantly slid his eyes over to meet hers.

"I know that you had a reason for it," she said steadily. "and you _have_ to tell me. Tell me why you did it." He shook his head not trusting himself to speak. He was shocked when his mother shook him. She'd never been rough with him. Not like this.

"Damn it, Fíli," she sobbed. "Now is not the time for this. I understand that you're ashamed of what you've done but—"

"I'm not," Fíli said quietly. "I'm not ashamed and I'd do it again."

"No," she scoffed. "No you won't. And you will tell me why you did it. You have to." He said nothing but merely looked away from her once more. Knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with him she turned to her youngest.

"Kíli," she pleaded, tears beginning to stream down her face at what Fíli was condemning himself to through his silence. "Please, Son . . . the two of you are never apart. You know why he did it, don't you? Please tell me." Kíli shifted uncomfortably, glancing from the broken form of his mother, who he'd never seen cry let alone _beg_ , to his brother. He wanted to tell her what he knew, but a single, tiny shake of Fíli's head reminded him of his promise.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he breathed, unable to look at her while he lied. "I don't know anything about this." She gave several hysterical laughs before she could speak once more.

"Neither of you understand, do you?" she snapped, her face crumpling at their united front. "You don't know what this means. This is not a time for your secrets. Generally I don't care. Siblings have secrets from their parents. Mahal knows that your uncles and I had more than a few but now . . . you _can't_ keep this a secret. You _have_ to tell the truth. It's the only way out."

"Wha-what do you mean?" Kíli asked feeling himself go cold. He'd never seen his mother so frantic and it frightened him. If it was something that would shake his solid mother . . . he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"Your positions within our people afford you many privileges but there are things even the two of you can't do," she said simply. "This is one of them. This will be seen as attempted murder. Our laws have a punishment for that."

"But Uncle—" Kíli began only to be cut off by his mother.

"Can't overturn it," Dís snarled. "Even princes can't kill for no reason. Fíli, I _know_ you had a reason. You _have_ to explain it. You just . . . you have to. Please. I . . ."

"Fee," Kíli whispered, not liking the idea of his brother facing punishment for something that there was an explanation for that might clear him.

"No," Fíli replied, his tone hard. As were his eyes when they returned to his mother's. "I'm sorry, Mother. I can't do as you ask. I can't explain it. I won't. I'll take whatever the punishment is. I won't tell why I did it."

"You don't _understand_ ," Dís tried again. "You don't know what you're agreeing to. It—" She was cut off as the front door slammed open to admit Balin, Dwalin, Óin and Thorin. She shot to her feet and gripped her brother's upper arms, her touch nearly painful in her desperation.

"Please, Thorin, Brother, please," she begged, clinging to him. "Just . . . just give me a few more minutes. I . . . I know he'll tell me why he did it. He will. I just . . . please!"

"I can't, Dís," Thorin said, his tone sad his own eyes growing wet at the sight of his sister so distraught. "You know that. I wish I could but . . . take Kíli. Go visit Glóin and his wife. You . . . you don't need to be here for this."

"Please," she tried once more, her eyes filling with tears once more. "Please, Brother."

"Go, Dís," Thorin whispered. "Just . . . just go." She nodded, biting her lip to stifle her sobs as she turned to offer her hand to her youngest. She stopped at the door and turned back.

"Fíli," she said, her heart breaking as he still refused to look at her. "Please, just tell them. For me if not for yourself. I . . . don't make me see this. Even if you can't tell me; tell your uncle." He said nothing and with a final sob she slammed the door behind her, walking away quickly enough that Kíli had to jog beside her to keep up. She hated herself for abandoning her child at a time like this but she also knew that she wasn't strong enough to stay through what was to come.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli flinched as he heard his mother slam the door. He'd never heard her slam a door before. Nor had he seen her cry. He hated what he was doing to her but the truth would not be any better. He flinched again at the sound of his uncle's voice. He's been on the receiving end of many lectures, but he'd never heard _this_ tone before.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you've done, lad?" Thorin rasped out more upset than he wanted to admit by the memory of his sister's pleading and the sight of his golden nephew bound in his own home. Fíli said nothing not trusting himself to speak without sobbing. Instead he swallowed and closed his eyes in an attempt to hide his tears. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next but he knew the moment his uncle had sent his mother and Kíli away that it wouldn't be good. He stiffened once more as he felt his uncle's hands come down on his shoulders forcing them into the wall once more.

"Answer me," Thorin ordered. "Do you know what you've done."

"I . . . I beat a classmate once he surrendered," Fíli replied. "I continued on when I should have stopped."

"No. You nearly killed him," Thorin growled. "And from what I've been told that was what you meant to do. This was no training accident. This was not a wrong answer on a test. This was not one of your foolish little mistakes. This was a _crime_ , Fíli. Attempted murder in the eyes of the law. What do you have to say for yourself?" Fíli said nothing and Thorin released him angrily before beginning to pace in the entry swearing ferociously.

"You have one chance to avoid punishment," Thorin said, his eyes begging Fíli to take the chance.

"Wh-what is the punishment?" Fíli asked in a small voice. No one seemed to want to answer him. Eventually it was Balin that stepped forward and spoke.

"Attempted murder is a severe crime, Fíli," Balin said. "As such it carries a steep punishment. For an adult, the kin of the assaulted is permitted to administer one hundred lashes to the assaulter in the middle of the square with the instrument of his or her choice."

"And for a juvenile?" Fíli breathed.

"In the rare event that a juvenile attempts to _murder_ another the punishment is much the same," Thorin snapped. "The count is still one hundred. The difference is that fifty of them are administered by the head of the family in private with only members of the council as witnesses and are to be below the waist. The remaining fifty are public and administered by the kin of the assaulted above the waist. There are also limitations on the instrument that may be used."

"And to avoid it?" Fíli asked, his voice sounding impossibly small.

"There must be a valid excuse for the assault," Thorin replied. "There are two opportunities to give this. You can tell me now and avoid any punishment if the reason is a good one or you can give it after the first fifty have been administered. This is a judicial punishment, not torture. Even if you give a reason in the middle, the sentence will be carried out. Do you understand? Once this begins the set will be delivered."

"I . . . I understand," Fíli said, steeling himself for what was to come. It would be unpleasant but he was sure that he could endure this. Better that then them knowing what had been said about his mother.

"Does that mean that you will tell me what happened?" Thorin asked.

"No," Fíli said, feeling bad as all of the elders sagged at his response. "I can't tell you."

"Fine," Thorin replied coldly gripping his arm and dragging him down the hall to his own bedroom. "Just remember you bring this on yourself." Fíli closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing as his boots and breaches were removed and he was bent over the edge of the bed, his uncle's large palm resting between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the bed.

"Last chance, lad," Thorin breathed into his ear. "Please don't force this on either of us. Just tell the truth."

"I can't," Fíli breathed.

"I hope your secret is worth it then," Thorin muttered standing and accepting the strap from Dwalin. "I truly hope it's worth it." Fíli braced himself for the first swat. It wasn't the first time he'd been spanked and he thought he knew what to expect. Nothing could have prepared him for it. What he didn't understand was that the council was there to ensure that the assaulter was _punished_ by their kin. If a blow was seen to be too light by two out of three it did not count and would have to be repeated. Thorin was determined that this would not happen. He didn't want to have to strike his nephew more times than he was obligated to so instead he struck with more force than he wanted to.  As it was, every blow that fell, every jolt of the small body beneath his hand, they all felt as if they were taking a piece of him. When Fíli began crying out it was everything he could do to continue and when the lad began to beg . . . it was only the knowledge that pausing would make the blows that followed more painful that drove him on. By the time he delivered the final stroke, there were tears sliding down his own cheeks.

With it delivered, he dropped the strap and unbound his nephew's hands before pulling Fíli against his chest and allowing the boy to cling to him while he sobbed. The other three filed out of the room, having done their legal obligation by witnessing the punishment. They had no desire to witness Thorin comforting the lad. That was far too private.

"Why can't you just tell me, lad," Thorin breathed into Fíli's sweaty hair. "Why did you make me do that to you? What could be so bad that you would force your mother to watch as another does the same?" Fíli froze, seeming not even to breathe.

"She'll have to w-watch?" Fíli managed to ask around his sobs.

"Aye, lad," Thorin replied. "As will Kíli. I could send them away for this part but it is central to the punishment. Just as your victim's mother has to watch him suffer, so must yours."

"Borin wasn't a victim," Fíli muttered. "He deserved everything I did and more."

"Why?" Thorin asked. "What did he _do_?" With a sigh Fíli decided that his secret was not worth it. Not if his mother would be punished along with him.

"You can't tell Mother," he begged. "I'll tell you if you promise not to tell her."'

"I can do that," Thorin agreed. "The council will have to be told but your mother does not. Nor does Kíli."

"Kíli knows," Fíli said. "Most of it anyway. The other day when we went to the market Borin and his cousins came out of the alley. There were some words exchanged and Borin grabbed Kíli. He . . . he called him a mongrel. Said that Mother had sex with an elf and that's where Kíli came from."

"Those are harsh words, lad, but not worth killing him over," Thorin said feeling anger burn in his own veins at what the lad had dared to say about Dís and Kíli. Even if Dís _had_ taken a second lover after her husband—which she hadn't—it would _never_ have been an elf.

"That's not the end of it," Fíli argued. "Today, when we were sparring, He called Kíli a mongrel again and . . . he threatened to break Kíli's arm once he defeated me. I . . . I couldn't let him do that, Uncle. I couldn't let him touch Kíli. I had to stop him." Thorin nodded, trying to keep his own face impassive despite the rage he felt. He couldn't believe another dwarfling would plot such a thing against one of his heirs but he also knew that Fíli was no liar. As did the council. And as hard as it was to believe, that was an explanation that made more sense of the situation and one that the council would most likely accept. Defense of kin permitted many actions that were otherwise prohibited.

"There's just one more thing I must know," Thorin said pulling back to look into his nephew's red-rimmed eyes. "Why did you not tell Dwalin what Borin had threatened to do. He never would have allowed them to spar if you had." Fíli blinked at him in surprise. It was clear to Thorin that the thought of doing so  had never even occurred to his nephew.

"I . . . I didn't think of it," Fíli said, his eyes going distant. "When he threatened Kíli . . . I don't remember thinking at all. I just . . . I knew I had to stop him. You understand, don't you, Uncle?" Thorin nodded and said nothing else before he stood and helped Fíli under the blankets.

"I will have your dinner brought to you when the time comes," Thorin said. "Do . . . do you want to see your brother. They should be back shortly."

"I . . . I'd rather not," Fíli replied. "I don't want him to see this. He knows what was said in the market. He'll only blame himself. Can you . . . can you—"

"I can tell him that it is part of your punishment," Thorin said, realizing that Fíli didn't want his brother to _know_ that he didn't want him in there. "You'll have tonight to yourself. You're banned from class for at least a week. I will need to speak with Dwalin to learn just how long." Fíli nodded, not sure if he could attend class even if he wasn't banned. "I won't be able to keep your mother out but I can keep what was said from her. I understand now why you did not want her to know. Be that as it may, you still should have told me. It wouldn't have taken all of this for me to agree not to tell her."

"I'll remember that next time," Fíli replied looking up at his uncle without lifting his head.

"There'd better not _be_ a next time, lad," his uncle said before walking from the room and closing the door behind him.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin was sitting at the table when Dís and Kíli returned home. Dís took one look at her brother's face and knew what had happened.

"He wouldn't tell you, would he?" she whispered, sinking into the chair across from Thorin. "I'm going to have to—"

"He told me, Dís," Thorin cut her off.

"Why'd he do it?" she breathed, knowing that Fíli had to have had a reason and wanting to know what it was for her own peace of mind.

"I promised that I would not tell you," Thorin replied shaking his head. "I won't break that promise. Just take comfort in the fact that it was a good reason and the council agrees."

"So it's over?" she asked, her eyes alight with hope. "There will be no more fall-out?"

"Not exactly," he said, regretting his word choice the moment they left his lips as his sister paled. "Nothing like that, Sister," he promised reaching for her hand. "He is simply banned from training for a week and I've confined him to his room for the night. Alone."

"Then where am I supposed to sleep?" Kíli asked, reluctant to draw attention to himself but wondering it all the same. He wanted to see his brother, and didn't want to sleep alone in the main room. He'd never slept alone and wasn't sure that he was able to do so.

"You'll sleep with me," Thorin said simply, his tone one that even Kíli knew not to argue with. "Your brother is to be left in peace so he can think about what he's done."

"He's not even coming to supper?" Kíli asked.

"No, little one," Thorin said, not wanting to tell Kíli that it was probably kinder for Fíli to not attempt to sit at the table, "but he will not go without. I will take him a plate when the time comes."

"No," Dís cut in. "I will."

"Dís," Thorin sighed, trying to figure out how to tell her that Fíli was probably in no mood to receive visitors without telling Kíli what had been done to his brother.

"Don't you _dare_ 'Dís' me, Thorin," she said, glaring at him. "I _will_ see my son." Thorin said nothing but nodded. He knew that she would not like what she saw, but there was no way that he could keep her from it.

"Do as you will," he said instead. She snorted and he took it to mean what it did; that she _would_ do as she pleased, and there was nothing he could do about it. And, despite all the foolish things he'd done in his life, even _he_ wasn't foolish enough to stand between his sister and something she wanted.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli was lying on the bed, attempting to ignore the pain in his backside when he heard a quiet knock on the door. He closed his eye and evened his breathing hoping that whoever had come would believe him to be asleep and leave. He was disappointed when he heard the steps cross the floor and the sound of something being set the bedside table before a hand stroked back his hair and a weight descended on the edge of his bed.

"I know you're not asleep," his mother said, still stroking his hair. "But you do not have to talk to me. I only ask that you listen." There was a pause and he heard her swallow.

"I don't understand why you did what you did today," she said, her voice abnormally thick. "I don't understand why you attacked that lad the way you did, or why you wouldn't tell me why you did. There is no way that _this_ is better than telling me the truth would have been, Fíli. No matter why you did it, it wouldn't have made me love you any less. It couldn't have." She paused and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she stood and made her way towards the door.

"There's food on the table if you're hungry," she muttered. "I wish you would have confided in me, Fíli. I could have saved you this pain. I hate seeing you this way, Son. I love you too much to see you suffer, I only wish you understood what that means. Nothing you could ever do would make me stop loving you. Nothing you could tell me . . . even if you _had_ killed that lad . . ." she trailed off with a sigh.

"Don't let that food get cold. It'll taste better hot," she said before closing the door and walking away.

Fíli waited a bit to make sure that she was truly gone before he forced himself upright and pulled the bowl towards him, eating mechanically as his mother's words bounced around his skull. No matter what she had said, he knew that there was no such love as she was describing. Love was earned, not given. And if she knew that he'd lost his temper over an insult and childish threat rather than seeking assistance . . . there was no way she would love him. He could hear how much his actions had upset her and if she knew that there had been another way . . . no, love could not cover such short-comings. No. If he wanted her love, his behavior would have to be above reproach from here on out.


	25. Talks in the Night and Music in the Morn

That night Kíli snuck out.

He waited until his uncle was asleep before slipping out of bed and across the room. He flinched as the door squeaked slightly as it was opened but all his uncle did was grunt before rolling over and muttering something incoherent in his sleep. Taking it as a sign from the Maker that he was _supposed_ to sneak out to see his brother—after all, _everyone_ knew that his uncle was a _very_ light sleeper. He'd actually been surprised that his mother had allowed him to sleep in his uncle's room as they weren't generally allowed near him when he was sleeping because she said that he had a tendency to awake violently and would hate himself if he ever hurt them (not that she would hate it any less but that didn't need to be said)—he pulled the door shut behind him and made his way down the hall.

He opened their door quietly, needing to see his brother but not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping. He pulled the door shut silently behind him, his hand freezing on the knob as he heard the strangest sound he'd heard in his life. It almost sounded as if there were a kitten in the room but they were forbidden from bringing animals into the home. It took him a second longer to realize that it wasn't a kitten but rather his brother making the noise.

"Fee?" he whispered, moving towards the bed with his hand outstretched in peace. "Are you alright?"

"What do you think?" came the sharp reply as his brother's blue eyes flashed open.

"I don't know what to think," he said honestly. "You don't sound alright."

"That's because I'm not," Fíli sighed, wincing as he shifted on the bed, attempting to find a more comfortable position.

"Why are you laying like that?" Kíli asked tipping his head sideways to align his eyes with his brother's. "You never sleep on your stomach."

"I got a lashing for what I did," Fíli snapped, not feeling up to Kíli's questions at the moment and wishing his uncle would have just told his brother what happened so that he could be spared telling him himself.

"I'm sorry," Kíli muttered, closing his eyes and grasping the back of his brother's head to touch their foreheads together.

"What for?" Fíli asked bringing his own hand up to tangle in Kíli's unruly mop. "I'm the one decided to try to kill him."

"For not telling them why you did it," Kíli replied. "I should have. Even if you were mad at me it wouldn't be as bad as seeing you in pain. Uncle would have believed me. I know it."

"He would have," the elder agreed. "But then Mother would have had to known as well."

"It's not like she's never heard it before," Kíli said honestly. He'd been thinking about it ever since the blood started to flow earlier that day and the more he'd thought about it the clearer things had become. "Borin's not smart enough to have come up with that on his own," he continued. "He must have heard it from somewhere, most likely his parents, which means that it's been said before. She's probably heard it at least once."

"She still didn't need to hear it from us," Fíli sighed, releasing Kíli's hair and turning his head the other way so he was facing the wall. "Besides, that's not exactly why I did it. You couldn't have told them even if you'd wanted to."

"Then why did you do it?" Kíli asked moving back into his brother's line of sight and laying down on his back beside him. "It had to do with me, didn't it? That's why Uncle separated us. It's his was of punishing me too, isn't it?"

"He's not punishing you," the elder sighed. "He kept you out because I asked him to. I . . . I didn't want you to blame yourself for this when it was my decision."

"You asked him to keep me out?" Kíli breathed, feeling crushed that his brother didn't want him around. "Do _you_ blame me?"

"Mahal's hammer! No, Kee, I don't blame you," Fíli said reaching out for his brother only to stop with a grimace. " I just blame myself."

"If I promise not to tell Ma, will you tell me why you did it then, if it's not my fault?" he asked, his brown eyes wide and filled with concern for his brother.

"It wasn't your fault, Kee," Fíli promised softly. "I _chose_ to attack him." At his brother's impatient expression, Fíli felt a small smile cross his face before it vanished under a more melancholy expression. "He threatened to hurt you," Fíli said finally. "To break your arm. I . . . I couldn't let him do that so I did what I needed to to stop him." At his brother's horrified face, he couldn't help but keep talking.

"Don't worry," he said. "He won't do it. True, talking to Mr. Dwalin might have had the same effect but . . . I don't regret what I did, Kee. Even if Uncle can never look at me the same way again or if Mother can't . . . I would do it again. None of them will ever _think_ of touching you now." Kíli said nothing but his heart broke to hear without a doubt that Fíil had taken what had clearly been a vicious lashing for his sake. He never wanted to hurt his brother, even indirectly, and he'd done just that. Yes, the choice had been Fíli's, but he'd done it for Kíli.

"Can . . . is there anything you want?" Kíli offered quietly. "Anything I can get you?" Fíli shook his head, there was nothing that he wanted that his brother could get for him. The only thing that even sounded good at the moment was an apple and they wouldn't be in season for a few more months if there ever _were_ apples that year.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked even more quietly.

"No," Fíli muttered scooting closer to Kíli with a muffled whimper and resting his head on his brother's shoulder and his left arm across Kíli's chest and into his brother's hair. "Stay." Kíli nodded, resting his cheek on the top of his brother's head and putting his own left hand in Fíli's hair and his right in the middle of his brother's shoulders.  He stayed awake for a time listening as his brother's labored breathing evened out, though the occasional whimper still punctuated the sound. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was the strangest thought he'd ever had; an even mix of 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry.'

**ooOO88OOoo**

When Thorin awoke the next morning to an empty bed there was no doubt in his mind as to where his nephew would be. Still in his nightclothes and bare feet, he padded down the hall and eased open the door to the room the lads shared. It was no surprise to him to see the two of them wrapped in one another's arms soundly asleep, even if their positions were reversed from their norm.

He stood silently in the doorway for a moment watching them sleep. Even as he did, memories of the day before assailed him. While he much preferred Fíli's peaceful sleeping face to the one he'd seen during the ordeal, he couldn't get his nephew's pain-filled expression or cries out of his head. He hated himself for what he'd done the day before, even if he'd had no choice in the matter. The law was the law, exceptions could not be made, even for his kin. No matter how much he wished otherwise.

All the same, he couldn't help but feel pride for his nephew, despite the pain he'd caused them all with his actions. He knew that in Fíli's place he would have done the same to protect his kin, endured whatever he had to to ensure they were kept safe. Fíli understood the nature of sacrifice. He would one day make a brilliant king and he was already an excellent brother. Even if the decision had been rash and foolish, the reason behind it was noble. He knew that he'd never need fear for Kíli as long as his brother was beside him and only hoped that his youngest nephew extended his brother the same protection. After all, he knew firsthand what happened when brothers failed to protect one another.

As he turned to go into the kitchen he offered up a silent prayer that neither of the lads would ever have to experience the pain of losing the other through their own actions. With a sigh he settled into onto a chair beside the cool ashes in the hearth and moved to prepare his pipe before he remembered that there was nothing to smoke. There hadn't been the funds for luxuries like pipeweed lately.

With another sigh he stood and moved to the wall where they stored his harp and Dís' fiddle. He'd suggested selling them more than once but Dís wouldn't hear of it. She'd replied that they would cost more to replace than they would get for them, and she was right. All the same, it was difficult to look at them on the wall, knowing that they could put meat on the table, and not consider it. And then there were times like this when he was glad she refused to allow it.

With a small smile on his face, he gently lifted the harp from its hook and moved back to his seat before the hearth. He gave an unhappy hum as he ran his fingers across the strings and realized that it had lost its tune once more. He could remember that his mother had a harp back in Erebor that was of such fine craftsmanship that the strings never rang untrue. This, like everything they had now, was a poor imitation of the life they'd once had. Attempting to push the thought aside, he closed his eyes and began forcing the strings back into order.

Even once he was satisfied, he did not open his eyes. Rather, he moved into a melancholy tune, allowing the music to wash over him and express the feelings of loss and sadness that he couldn't give voice to.

He wasn't sure how long he played, but he was startled when he heard a chair scrape across the floor and laid his hand across the strings to stop their ringing at the same time his eyes flew open to see his sister sitting across from him tuning her fiddle and watching him.

"Don't stop," she said softly. "It's been too long since we played together. You still play beautifully."

"Dís," he muttered.

"Just go back to what you were doing. Please?" she asked. "I'll join in once it's tuned." Thorin shook his head sadly and ran his fingers across the strings once more. He could deny his sister nothing, especially when it was something this small that might bring her pleasure after the day before.

He was only strumming for a moment when Dís added not only her fiddle but her voice to the tune. Until he heard the words she sang, he hadn't realized what he'd been playing but hearing her sing, he now knew why she'd wanted him to continue. Despite himself, he joined her at the chorus, his bass and her tenor weaving through one another to craft words that were not only a wish but a prayer.

_"We must away ere break of day,_

_To claim our long-forgotten gold."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was not in my original draft but were triggered by a review from gpgal on ff.net who wondered what Kíli would have to say about what his brother did. That's who you have to thank for an extra chapter of this fic :) See, sometimes WIPs are a good thing :)


	26. The Quest Begins

As it always does, time continued to pass. The Borin affair faded in everyone's memories and left no real stain on anyone's reputations. In fact, Borin and his cousins attended Fíli's seventieth birthday, where Dís presented her son with beautiful silver hairclasps (more than she'd intended as two of them had been for Kíli until Thorin had told her that he had already made clasps for her youngest) to hold his braids and twin swords that she had forged herself. None of them seemed to harbor hard feelings for what had happened, and Fíli behaved no differently towards them than he did anyone else. As had become his habit, he was polite and distant to everyone, save his mother and brother.

Too soon for her taste, Fíli's eightieth birthday came and went, his passage into adulthood a cause for great celebration by the general public as it meant that there was one of Durin's line finally able to potentially take a mate and continue the lineage for another generation. And there was no doubt in the minds of the people that Fíli would secure a mate with time. The heir was an excellent example of what it meant to be a dwarf—sturdy, skilled with weapons, shrewd, controlled, and with striking golden hair and beard to boot and the blue eyes found only in his line. No, Fíli would secure a mate. They had no question of that.

The other prince however . . . Kíli was his brother's opposite in every way. Where Fíli was sturdy, Kíli had maintained his lanky adolescent build even into near adulthood. Five years from his own majority and the lad still had yet to grow a proper beard. When he had been younger most people had placed no credence in the rumors that his height and build came from bad breeding. After all, Thorin was one of the tallest dwarves, it only made sense that one of his blood would be tall as well. They knew that Kíli would fill out with time. But he never did. And his beard never grew. Even the most skeptical began to question his parentage—out of earshot of his brother, mother and uncle of course.

His temperament did little to help matters either. In contrast to his brother's stoicism and quiet confidence, Kíli was a whirlwind of energy. Where Fíli sat at meetings beside his uncle and listened to everything, offering up the occasional quiet solution, you were fortunate if Kíli would sit still for ten minutes. Where Fíli would work diligently on any task until it was done—generally well in advance of any deadline—Kíli would fool around only to rush at the end. Even if there was rarely fault to his work, it just wasn't the dwarven way to do things. No one could understand why Thorin seemed to so obviously favor his dark nephew over his golden one when it was clear to them who was the better heir.

But favor Kíli he did. If the boys gave the same suggestion—even in nearly the same words—Thorin would always reject Fíli's while accepting the same thing from Kíli or one of the other councilors. The people too it as a sign of his inner strength that Fíli never once complained as his brother surely would have. It was also clear in other areas. If Fíli presented a newly forged sword to his uncle, Thorin would find the one place that the hammer had hit too hard or too often to criticize. All Fíli ever said was "Yes, Uncle. I should have seen that. I will try harder next time." and all Thorin ever replied was  "See that you do."

In another sign of undwarven behavior, Kíli had never taken up the forge. That's not to say that he had no useful skills, but they were not the usual trades of the nobles. When he should have been training to craft, Kíli had spent his time hunting. When Balin had brought this discrepancy to Thorin's attention the king had laughed and asked, "What need has he for a trade? If he hunts he will never want for meat or clothing. And he can sell the skins for money. What more does a dwarf need? He will want for nothing." Balin had shaken his head but said nothing. It wasn't as if he could go against his king where his kin were concerned. 

Yet despite these differences, the lads were hardly ever seen apart, save for when duty called them to be. Fíli endured Kíli's hyperactive demeanor in a way that impressed everyone and Kíli seemed to have no issue with his brother's quieter nature. Their differing personalities complimenting and balancing one another much as the sun did the moon. Fíli's cooler head often tempering Kíli's hot one while Kíli's enthusiasm for life provided his reserved brother with diversions that Fíli would never have attempted on his own. 

And then the signs began to come. Signs that marked the beginning of the fulfillment of the prophesy that spoke of the reclamation of Erebor. At first they were dismissed as coincidence but as more of them began to appear, there was no denying that the time had come. But still there was doubt. And then a meeting with Gandalf during one of Thorin's searches for work where the wizard gave him his father's map and key solidified it; it was time to reclaim the mountain if they ever wanted to see their homes again. Then, plans began.

Thorin began to petition the people, asking for volunteers to reclaim the wealth of Erebor and the safety offered by the mountain's walls. Too few came forward. What Thorin had failed to take into account when he asked for volunteers was the fact that though he ruled due to his lineage, most of his subjects were not Longbeards; they were Broadbeams. And many of the ones that _were_ Longbeards had never set foot inside the mountain. They did not know the wealth he spoke of save from half-believed legends and songs and saw no need for further protection as the settlement had never been attacked yet. They were content. 

In the end, only ten dwarves agreed to come. Ten, where Throin had hoped for a hundred at least. At the lack of response, Thorin's mood fell and he slipped into one of his melancholies. It took Dís reminding him that they had had hundreds of warriors when the mountain fell and still it fell and suggesting that perhaps stealth would succeed where numbers had failed to pull him out again.  Once more, Thorin began to plan and talk with excitement of the wonders of Erebor.

Dís knew as she watched her boys listen with wide eyes that when the time came and her brother left they would follow. And as much as she feared for them, she would have it no other way. They were as ready as they would ever be to make their way in the world and she would be the last person to come between them and what they wanted, even if the thought of what could happen to them made her heart ache in an impossible way. If they died . . . well, she had heard that it was possible to die from grief and if she lost them all there would be nothing left to hold her to this world.

But she voiced none of these thoughts. When the boys spoke to her with bright eyes and awed tones over what they would see or do on the quest, asking her about landmarks between Ered Luin and Erebor that she remembered, she would smile and answer their questions, even as she broke inside. She still remembered that march, even if she no longer remembered the mountain. She remembered the hardships, the hunger, the bone-deep weariness that comes from marching all day, the frustration that comes from seeing little progress towards a destination and the fear from sleeping exposed in the wilds. They would endure all of that and more if they left.

As she watched them sit together by the fire, Fíli carving a model for a new blade and Kíli fletching arrows, she wondered what they would be like when— _if—_ they returned. Would Kíli still laugh at every little thing? Would he still be such a wild thing? Or would time, hardships and trauma erase his smile as it had Thorin's. And Fíli. He'd always been such a serious thing. Would the quest make him more melancholic or would it, perhaps, show him that he didn't have to be so serious all of the time? Would he learn the difficult lesson that had been forced on her family time and again, that life was too short and death too permanent to waste time?

She had no doubt that they would have new scars and stories if she saw them again she could only pray that neither of them paid too high a cost in either life or limb. She knew many old warriors missing limbs, fingers, eyes . . . she could only hope that her boys would fare better. While the thought of seeing her sons dead stopped her heart, the thought of seeing them maimed . . . it broke it. But she never said any of it. Nor did she voice her concerns on her brother. Not to her sons.

That night, after the boys had gone to bed, she turned to her cousins instead. It was to them she went the night before the company was set to depart. It was in Balin and Dwalin, who already knew of Thorin's weaknesses and faults, that she confided. It was them, rather than the son she was placing the burden on, that she told how to pull Thorin from any funk he fell into. As much as it pained her, she told them that they were to use Kíli if that was what it took to keep Thorin sane, just as they had used Fíli for years.

"Dís," Balin called as she walked out the door. "What do we do if Thorin doesn't allow Kíli to come? Can Fíli do this?"

"No," she replied, feeling her heart breaking as she did. "I've already told you why. But don't worry. Kíli will go with you in the morning."

"How do you know?" Dwalin asked. "Thorin has all but said he won't give the lad a contract."

"I'm going to ensure it," Dís said simply before walking into the night, leaving both sons of Fundin wondering just how she was going to do that. As formidable as Dís could be, they knew that Thorin would never risk Kíli's life, regardless of what she said. With that in mind, they returned to their home attempting to make contingency plans to reset Thorin without Kíli. They could only pray that it would work.

**ooOO88OOoo**

When Thorin returned from putting the final touches on his plans for the morning, he knew there was one more thing he had to do before he could rest; tell Dís he was taking her son. He had thought about it many times but could see no way around it. Fíli had to come. And while the lad was an adult and no longer needed his mother's blessing, he knew that Fíli would never agree to come without it. Now he just had to get it. Thorin feared it would be a far greater task than reclaiming the mountain from Smaug.

With a sigh, Thorin approached his sister where she sat by the fire mending one of Kíli's socks. He sat across from her and tried to think of how to tell her that he was taking her favorite child on what could very well be a suicide mission. He could find no way to do so gently and as the silence continued to stretch between them he could feel the tension in the air as though it were about to snap.

Dís didn't feel the same tension, but she could see from the way that Thorin sat and continued to open and close his mouth without saying anything that he wanted to speak of the quest but had no idea how to go about it. She only watched him flounder for a moment before she decided to spare him.

"So," she began without looking up from Kíli's sock, "what is it that you are trying so hard to find the words to tell me about this quest of yours? Have you changed your mind about going? Surely not when everyone is so excited about it."

He snorted at her sarcasm. People were far from excited. In fact, where he had hoped to raise an army, so far only ten dwarves had agreed to come. That could hardly be called excited.

"No," Thorin replied. "I haven't changed my mind due to a few naysayers. I'm still going."

"Then what troubles you?" she asked, knowing that her next words would goad him into it. "You're not usually so timid when it comes to telling me what you want."

"I'm not _ever_ timid, Sister," he snapped, his eyes narrowing at her bent head. It was only when she looked up with a smirk and a raised eyebrow that he realized she had been attempting to rile him. With a sigh, he decided to just tell her.

“I’m not going alone, Dís,” Thorin told her levelly.

“I know,” she replied simply. “You'll have a company to lead. Even _you_ aren't so foolish as to go against Smaug alone."

"That's not what I mean, Dís," he said slowly. "Of course there will be the company but . . . I . . ."

"You’re taking my boys with you," she supplied with a shrug, feigning an indifference that she didn't feel. "I knew that you would if you ever decided to attempt this.”

“No, Dís,” he corrected placing his hand on hers to stop her from working and looking into her brown eyes as if attempting to stare into her soul. “Not your boys. Just Fíli.”

“No,” she replied firmly, staring into his blue eyes. “You are not just taking one of them. If you take Fíli, you _have_ to take his brother as well. You can’t leave Kíli here. You cannot deny him the same chance at glory that you are giving Fíli.”

“It isn’t glory that I am giving him a chance to earn, Dís. It’s death,” Thorin snapped, reminding her of the stakes she had so clearly forgotten. “I won’t risk our entire line on a fool’s errand. Kíli should stay with you. Here. Safe.” _Where he and his smile will be protected from the horrors of the world_ , he finished mentally.

“You cann _ot_ do that to him, Thorin,” Dís argued shaking her head emphatically. “What kind of message does it send to our people about your confidence in him that you would leave him and yet take Fíli? You can't tell me you're deaf to what they say about him. It will solidify their belief that he's a mongrel and that you care nothing for him. But more importantly, what kind of message does it send to _Kíli_?”

“Fíli’s an adult, Dís,” Thorin reminded her, his tone edging towards anger that she would argue with him over this. It was not just for Kíli’s sake that he intended to spare him the horrors of a quest, but for hers as well. “Kíli is not. It sends no message to anyone other than that I will not risk the lives of children the way our father did!" He was silent for a moment and when he began again his voice was no longer loud, but rather little more than a whisper.

He looked at her sadly before he said, "Dís . . .  Frerin . . . he was only a child. He _never_ should have been at the battle that claimed his life. I hold no illusions that this will be safe. I _will not_ put Kíli in the same position.”

“Thorin,” she sighed, placing her hand on his bearded cheek. She had known that Thorin’s obstinacy on the matter stemmed from their brother’s death. She knew that many of his issues did but she would not let his insecurities and fears destroy her son.

“Kíli is seventy-seven,” she reminded him gently. “He’s older than you were at that same battle. And he is better trained than Frerin ever was. You have seen to that. He has the skills that he needs to survive. You _cannot_ leave him here. He may not yet be an adult _but_ he is not a child either. He _has_ to go with you.”

“Dís,” Thorin sighed, his shoulders drooping in defeat, “I will _not_ take both of your sons. Not when I cannot guarantee that any of us will survive this attempt.”

“Then take Kíli and leave Fíli here with me,” Dís countered. At Thorin’s scoff she raised her hand for silence while glaring at her brother. “Hear me out. Fíli is your heir. The people love him and they do not doubt either his lineage or your trust in him. Leave him here to govern in your place and take Kíli with you.”

“I can’t do that,” Thorin argued. “As you said. Fíli is my heir. If he is to rule Erebor once I’m gone he _has_ to have a hand in reclaiming it. The people will not follow him otherwise.”

“Exactly,” Dís replied with a triumphant smirk. Thorin had just proved her point for her. “The same is true of Kíli. If—Mahal forbid!—anything happens to you and Fíli, Kíli becomes King. He cannot rule our people in good conscience if there is even a _whisper_ that you left him here due to a distrust of his abilities or heritage. . . they will not follow him. You can’t leave him in that position. Take Kíli. Do everything that you can to bring him, both of them, back to me but . . . take them. _Both_ of them.”

“Dís,” Thorin sighed knowing that this was a battle he would never win. “I will do everything I can to bring them back to you alive but . . . you know that they will not come back the same. Both of them—despite the fact that Fíli is technically an adult . . . they are still children, Dís. This will change that. When I bring them back . . . _if_ I bring them back, they may have shed blood. They may have taken lives. They won’t be your children anymore.”

“No,” Dís agreed. “They will be proud dwarven warriors worthy to be called princes of the line of Durin. No mother could wish for more.” Thorin sighed and hoped that she would still feel that way if he had to inform her that one of the boys had died. He knew there was no way either of them would survive it.

The next morning he once more questioned whether or not to bring them. Watching his sister braid their hair for them before gently placing a kiss on both their foreheads, her eyes begging them to come back alive where her lips would not . . . in that moment he vowed to himself that he would do _anything_ to ensure that happened. He would keep them both alive no matter the cost. He _would not_ come to his sister once again with news that she had lost yet another member of her family nor would he lose a member of his. His heart could not bear it.


	27. Ponies and Rivers

This promise to himself was tested before they ever reached the Misty Mountains. Ever since they had left the hobbit’s home, it seemed as if there had been nothing but rain. Not only had it made the entire company miserable, but it had made the journey treacherous. Roads were now nothing more than soft mud with hidden tree roots and stones that threatened to turn the ankles of the ponies. That had been Thorin’s biggest concern. A lame mount would have been a great impediment to the speed of the quest.

What actually happened was worse. He never learned what it was that had spooked the ponies, perhaps it was the wind or a sound or a shadow. The why was really irrelevant. It was what it led to that haunted the king’s nightmares. Two of the ponies, taking fright at _something_ , bolted. Straight into the swollen stream beside the path. And Fíli and Kíli rather than give them up for drowned, jumped up, stripping weapons and clothes as they ran and dove headlong into the stream after them.

Thorin lept to his feet as well, attempting to catch the lads before they dove but he was too late. He attempted to go after them but Balin and Dwalin’s arms around his chest held him back. Even so, he struggled against them, _needing_ to rescue his nephews. Thorin stood at the side of the stream, fighting his cousins and watching in blind panic, waiting for their heads to emerge from the turbulent waters.

“Just stop, Thorin!” Balin snapped. “See sense! We can’t pull all three of you out and we can’t do anything until we know where the lads are anyway. They won’t still be right here, not in this current.” Balin’s words broke through his panic and he began frantically looking down stream. Just as he was beginning to give up hope he saw it. A flash of gold breaking the surface of the water: Fíli’s hair. Right next to him, Kíli broke the surface. Thorin felt his heart restart. They were still alive.

Fíli and Kíli, however, were less relieved. They hadn’t quite thought through the implications of diving into a flooded stream. The current was stronger than either of them had counted on, the eddies more turbulent and there were other things in the turbid water that bounced off of them in the current. And neither of them was prepared for the panic that had flooded their veins as the water engulfed them and refused to let them surface. The certainty that they were going to die, and the panic it led to, only depleting their precious supply of air further. When Fíli did finally manage to break the surface of the water, he looked frantically for his brother.  It was only once he saw Kíli’s head break the surface and heard him draw in a gasp of air that he began to look for the ponies. 

He saw that one of them had managed to get out of the stream on her own and was standing in the shallows, most of her baggage gone. As he began scanning for the other, his attention was shattered by a log crashing into his side painfully. At his cry, Kíli's dark eyes were on him looking at him appraisingly with panic clear in their brown depths.

"I'm fine," Fíli called. "Ma—" he was cut off as his head went under the water. He came back up coughing, having not had time to prepare himself to be underwater. "Make for the edge," he said between coughs.

The two brothers swam, buffeted by the debris and the current and weighed down by their sodden clothing. The others watched from the banks as the boys swam, their hearts stopping in their chests whenever one of them would disappear for even a faction of a second only to begin to beat painfully once more when the lad would surface. None of them could stand the idea of losing either of them. Not to a river. They were almost to the edge when the scream of a pony came from just downstream. The lads exchanged a glance before Fíli nodded and they moved back into the current and allowed it to carry them to the lost pony.

"No," Thorin breathed pulling against Dwailn and Balin's hold on him again in his attempt to get to his nephews. He was horrified that they had gone back into danger when they were so close to being safe. Horrified and strangely proud that they would risk their own lives for the good of the company. But mostly horrified.

"They'll be alright, Thorin," Dwalin said with a certainty that he did not feel. "They're young and strong. They can survive a stream. Besides, they're already in there. They may as well do what they went in to do." Thorin whirled, prepared to lay into his cousin about his flippant take on his nephews' safety only to have the words die on his tongue at the fear in Dwalin's dark eyes. Dwalin feared for the safety of the lads as much as he did. Rather than snarl at his cousin, Thorin turned his eyes back on his nephews praying to any who would listen that they would come out of this in one piece.

Despite his fear for them, he couldn't help but smile at Kíli's triumphant cry when he managed to seize the pony's bridle and began swimming it back towards their side of the river with Fíli on the other side doing the same. He glanced aside in surprise when he heard Balin snort.

"Foolish lads," Balin muttered. Thorin was about to defend his nephews' intelligence and bravery when Balin cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over the roar of the current. "Use the reins you idiots! You're too close to the pony! If it kicks you it will break your fool legs!" Thorin looked at Balin in shock, he had never spoken to the lads like that. Had it have been Dwalin, Thorin would not have been surprised but Balin . . . he doted on them. Especially Fíli. It was then—as he saw the same tension in Balin that he felt himself—that Thorin realized that they were all afraid for his nephews. He did not have a monopoly on concern for their wellbeing. He gave Balin a small smile before turning his attention back to his nephews—who had followed his advice and moved their hold to the reins rather than the bridle.

They were midway across the river when he heard his name shouted from upstream by Glóin. There had been more panic in his cousin's voice than he had ever heard before. He turned fearing the worst only to see Glóin pointing into the middle of the swollen stream. Thorin watched in confusion for a moment before he saw what appeared to be an entire tree roll over. All he could hear was his heartbeat thudding in his ears as his eyes quickly mapped out the trajectory and he realized that there was no way that Fíli and Kíli could swim fast enough with the pony in tow to clear the path of the tree. Perhaps not even without it, but with it they stood no chance at all.

"Fíli! Kíli!" he called urgently not caring that he could hear panic in his own voice. They glanced at him and for a precious moment stopped swimming as they tried to hear him over the rush of water in their ears.

"Leave the pony! Swim!" he commanded simply his gaze unconsciously flicking upstream to check the progress of the tree before coming back to them. He cursed himself as he saw his nephews follow his gaze and he was forced to watch as their eyes widened in fear. He did growl out a string of curses when instead of swimming, they froze.

"Don't just sit there!" he heard Bofur call from a bit downstream where he was prepared to help drag them ashore. "Swim you fools! Don't sit there waiting for it to come to you!" Bofur's words seemed to pull the boys back to the present as Fíli began swimming once more, swatting Kíli on a stroke to get his brother to help. But even though they had continued swimming, they had not followed the second order as neither of them had released their hold on the pony's reins. None of the company dared to breathe as the boys made their slow progress. None of them could resist the urge to keep flicking their eyes to the tree coming down the stream and then back to the young dwarves, attempting to calculate the time it would take for the tree to reach the lads and if they would be clear before it did. They all came to the same, painful conclusion: there was no way they could swim free in time.

Thorin was glancing around desperately for a plan, trying to think of anything he could to speed his nephews' swim across the river; he could think of nothing. If they could get a rope to the boys they could pull them faster than they could swim but none of them could throw a rope quite so far, not without a weight on it and the weight necessary to make the distance would be dangerous. If it hit one of the lads it would knock them unconscious and they would drown. He was trying to get a new plan when he heard a shout and a splash from downstream.

His head whipped around sharply to see Bofur swimming towards the boys, a rope tied around his chest and going back to the shore where it was secured around Bombur. Before he could think to be irritated with the miner for putting yet another of the company in danger, he was in motion, Dwalin right on his heels, and making for Bombur's side. The moment Bofur reached the boys, he untied the rope and expanded the loop so that all three of them were contained within it. The moment it was done, he gave a sharp whistle.

"That's the signal," Bombur said. "Pull." None of them needed telling twice and as Bombur backed up, using his weight as a counterbalance, Thorin, Dwalin and Dori pulled. They were making good progress, but a quick glance upstream reveled that it _still_  wasn't going to be enough. Even with the three of them swimming and the four on the shore pulling they were never going to clear the current before the tree reached them. And everyone knew it. Even so, they continued on, refusing to give the three members of their company up for dead. Thorin's pulls became even more frantic as he watched the tree tumble in the current yet again, knowing that the next fall would bring it down on Bofur and his nephews.

But then a miracle occurred. The tree must have hit something, a rock, the stream bed, at any rate, it turned and instead of traveling down the stream across it, it was suddenly traveling down it with the roots at one end and the crown at the other. The sudden change was enough that it cleared both the dwarves and the pony. All of the company felt their limbs go weak with relief as they released a breath they hadn't realized they were holding. Everyone was safe.

It only took a few more moments to drag the sodden trio to the edge of the swollen stream and pull them out onto dry land. As the rope was unwound from around them, Bofur smiled at the two young dwarves coughing beside him.

"No offence, lads," he whispered, "but the two of you are rubbish at picking swimming holes. Next time, **_I_** get to pick where we swim, deal?" They simply nodded, both of their eyes far too wide in their pale faces as shivers wracked their forms from both the chill of the water and the relief at _not_ being dead. Bofur was only able to take in their nod, and the way that Kíli was desperately clinging to his brother—almost as if he needed to reassure himself that Fíli was alive—before a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

He glanced up in shock as he realized that the hand was connected to Thorin. Part of the company he may have been, but he'd never been close enough to the royal family for Thorin to touch him before. The only member that had was Kíli, but the heir was a bit too free with affection for a dwarf. The oddness of the situation made him a bit wary, as did the fact that the king stared down at him with an expression that Bofur couldn't quite place on his face and some strange emotion in his eyes.

"Thank you," Thorin finally whispered. "You did a very brave thing just now and I will not forget it. If we are successful I will see you well rewarded for saving my nephews from their own stupidity. For now, I believe Glóin has a fire started and you have relatives that wish to see you."

"I didn't do it for a reward," Bofur replied, hoping that Thorin didn't truly think that he had only saved Fíli and Kíli for the reward they might earn him.

"I know," Thorin said with a sharp nod. "That's why I'm determined that you have one." The King nudged his head towards the fire and Bofur realized that it was not just a thank you but also a dismissal. Thorin intended to have words with his nephews and did not particularly want an audience for it. Which was fine by Bofur. He didn't particularly want to _be_ the audience.

No sooner had Thorin released him than he found himself engulfed by Bifur and Bombur. "I'm glad you saved their lives, Brother," Bombur whispered into Bofur's ear as his hands gripped his soaked pigtails, "But don't _ever_ do something like that again." Bofur laughed but said nothing. Odds were very high that he would indeed be doing something life-threatening again. It was a dangerous quest after all. And he knew that his brother knew it as well.

"Is there anything to eat?" Bofur asked knowing just how to distract Bombur from his coddling. "Swimming is hunger-making work." Bombur said nothing, knowing that Bofur was attempting to distract him. It worked. Bombur had never been able to allow another to go hungry if it was within his power to prevent it and this time it was. With a sad shake of his head, he led his shivering brother to the fire where he and Bilbo had been chopping vegetables before all of this began. As he watched Bifur fussing over Bofur while he and Bilbo finished up the prep work for the stew it finally sank in for Bombur about just what they had agreed to. It was one thing to see on paper that death was a possibility but to have nearly experienced it. He was already beginning to wonder if this quest was worth it or if he had made a grave mistake in coming.

 


	28. After the River and Into the Darkness

Thorin stared down at his two shivering nephews. They looked so small and pathetic huddled together as they were. In the twilight, Fíli's wet hair looked more brown than gold, but that could have also been from the dirty water they had just been in. Kíli just looked miserable. And both of them looked more like drowned rats than princes-in-exile. Neither of them seemed to have noticed him. With a deep sigh, Thorin realized that this could not go unanswered. They had risked far too much this time and they hadn't even thought about it first.

"Do either of you care to tell me just _what_ you were thinking?" Thorin asked, his voice little more than a low rumble. Both of them flinched at the sound. Thorin waited, wondering which of them would have the courage—or foolishness—to attempt to explain their actions. He wasn't surprised when it was Kíli. Kíli always had an answer for everything, whether that answer was the right one or not . . . that was questionable.

"We . . . we w-were th-thinking that . . . t-that "Kíli scrambled trying to come up with an excuse that his uncle might accept for them diving headlong into a swollen stream without a plan.

"You _weren't_ thinking," Thorin corrected harshly. "If you had been, you would not have dove into the stream. Or you would have at least taken off your _boots_ first." Kíli continued to stare up at him with wide eyes. Thorin had _never_ spoken to him so sharply before. Fíli, however, hung his head in shame. He knew that they had erred and would not attempt to make excuses for their actions. They had behaved foolishly after all. They _should_ have at least removed their boots. They had been quite heavy in the stream and the moments they'd saved in keeping them on had been in vain. It wasn't like they'd saved the supplies.

"B-but U-Uncle," Kíli tried to say through his shivers and his shock, "If we'd w-waited—"

"What, Kíli?"" Thorin demanded. "If you'd waited _more_ of the supplies would have been lost? They were lost the moment the ponies went into the stream. If you'd waited until we had a plan . . . "

"The second pony would have been lost," Kíli said looking up at his uncle with sad brown eyes that were begging Thorin to understand. _Better the pony than you,_ Thorin thought but he didn't say anything. He could almost see that argument. They did need the ponies. Even so, Kíli could not think that he could do such foolish and reckless things.

"Be that as it may," Thorin countered, "you still should have waited for a plan. Or—Mahal!— even made one yourself! You _should_ _not_ have just jumped into the stream with no plan. In doing so you two put not only yourselves but Bofur at risk as well. It was foolish and reckless and—." Thorin paused to take a deep breath and calm himself once more.

"On top of all of that, you disobeyed me," Thorin breathed, the pain from his fear of losing the boys making his voice harsh. "I _ordered_ you to leave the pony and swim to safety and you _willfully_ disobeyed me. Do you deny that you heard the order?"

"We're s-s-sorry, Uncle," Kíli said looking up at Thorin from his place on the ground through his wet hair. "We just—"

"I don't care why you did it!" Thorin snarled. "You. Almost. Died. Do you have _any_ idea what that would have done to your mother?" _To me_ , he added silently.

"We were just—"

"I don't want to hear it, Kíli," Thorin said coolly. "I don't know what you _think_ you were doing but you are not to do it again. If you were seeking glory or . . .  or _praise_ that is not the way to go about it. You do not do _foolish_ or _reckless_ things just for the honor they _might_ bring  you. I suppose it doesn't matter what you were seeking because, at any rate, you failed. Not only did you two risk your own lives, but Bofur's as well and the supplies were not saved."

"We saved the p-pony," Kíli offered in a quiet, disconsolate voice as he looked away from the pain and disappointment in his uncle's eyes. "That c-counts for s-something, r-right?"

"One pony is not worth the risk of life for three dwarves, or even one," Thorin countered. "Ponies and supplies can be replaced. Lives cannot. If you do not realize that perhaps I _should_ have left you both at home." His heart ached as Kíli deflated at his harsh words but he did not retract them. He could not lose Kíli and if he had to hurt his feelings to impress upon him the gravity of this quest, so be it.

"It will n-not h-happen again, Uncle," Fíli promised quietly, unable to look up and see the anger that he knew would be in his uncle's eyes. Instead, he rested his cheek on Kíli's sopping head as he held Kíli's quivering form against him and tried to offer his brother what little warmth and comfort he could.

"See that it doesn't," Thorin whispered before he stalked off into the woods alone. It was only a second later that Dwalin followed after him, knowing that Thorin would need comfort even if he wished to pretend that he would not.

He had been right. He found Thorin sitting on a log with his head in his hands.

"I nearly lost them, Dwalin," Thorin whispered, unshed tears in his voice. "To a _stream_! I nearly lost them to a stream and we haven't even crossed the Mountains yet!" Dwalin said nothing. He just stood there and allowed his King to vent. "I should have left them at home. It's foolishness to risk the entire line on this quest. I should have left Kíli with his mother. Dís' opinion be damned."

"Kíli's done well on this quest so far," Dwalin said simply. "He's young, rash, and foolish. But he's learning. He never makes the same mistake twice, Thorin. You know that. He won't be diving headlong into any more streams after ponies, I can promise you that."

"Then I should have left Fíli," Thorin replied. "One of them should have stayed."

"They wouldn't have," Dwalin said. "You know that, Thorin. If you had tried to separate them . . . the other would have followed with or without permission and Dís would have give either of them permission to follow you with her blessing." Thorin sighed knowing that Dwalin was right but not wanting to admit it aloud. There had been no way to stop his nephews from coming on this quest.

"Besides," Dwalin added with a small chuckle, "can you imagine what kind of a terror Kíli would be without Fíli? Fíli's a grounding force for his brother. Keeps him in line."

"Then he should do a better job," Thorin snapped. The more he thought about it, the more Dwalin was right. Kíli was young and foolish but Fíli, he wasn't. _He_ should have known better than to dive into the stream with his brother. Kíli might not have gone alone. He _might_ have stopped if Fíli did. And he had seen them exchange glances in the water. Had Kíli convinced Fíli to disobey him or had it been the other way around . . .

"Perhaps," Dwalin said warily, seeing Thorin's mood shift once more. "But you do need to remember that Fíli is young and untried as well. He's not near as _foolish_ as Kíli but he's not fully mature yet either." Thorin said nothing but merely gave a noncommittal grunt in reply as he continued to wonder if that lapse of judgment on their part had been caused by Kíli's foolishness or Fíli's lack of control over his brother or both.

**ooOO88OOoo**

As soon as the King had left, Balin was there, peeling away the sodden blanket they were wrapped in and attempting to do the same to their clothing. Wet clothes would not help them to get warm. _Trust Thorin to lecture them without seeing to their needs,_ Balin thought with a small shake of his head. He was a bit surprised that it had been Kíli on the receiving end of the tirade but it was only a sign of how close things actually came that Thorin would criticize the lad. All the same, he did feel that it would do the lad some good to hear that he had made a mistake from his uncle. After he had finished with the fire, Glóin came to assist him with the brothers' wet clothing while Bombur and Bifur were doing the same to Bofur—who was loudly declaring his ability to remove his own clothing, declarations which fell on deaf ears. Kíli grumbled as he was separated from Fíli and Balin had to laugh.

The youngest heir looked all the world like a soaked stray pup. "Don't worry, my little feckless idiot," Balin laughed pausing just long enough to ruffle Kíli's hair before he returned to his task of stripping Fíli's shaking limbs. "You'll get him back soon enough. I just need to get him out of his wet clothes and check him over and then he's all yours. I'm not separating you. Though I probably should. The two of you do such _foolish_ things when you are together." Seeing the horror in both of their eyes he laughed once more.

"Don't fret, lads. It was only a joke," he promised.

"It was in p-p-poor taste," Kíli pouted as Glóin continued to strip him, the wet leather of his clothing clinging to him as if it had been stuck there by glue. It took both of their combined efforts to remove his bracers and boots. Kíli did not even fight when his cousin grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. When Glóin reached for the laces of his breaches, however, Kíli batted away his hands.

"I-I can get th-those," Kíli proclaimed through chattering teeth and reached down with cold-numbed fingers to fumble with the laces for a moment before his hands were batted away and Glóin's replaced them.

"It's not like I haven't done this before, lad," Glóin said with a smirk. "I've even changed your diapers. This is not nearly as embarrassing for either of us. Besides, you don't have anything that we haven't seen before."

"But I-I'll be naked!" Kíli protested, more upset about being stripped like a child than the resulting nudity. "Th-that can't p-p-possibly help to g-g-get me warm. I can j-j-just keep my pants on." This elicited a roar of laughter from the company, save for Bilbo who had not been around during Kíli's "clothing is bad" phase.

"What's so funny?!" Kíli demanded. "I c-can't see how my skin being b-bare can help me to get w-warm!"

"I have to agree with him," Bilbo added. "Wouldn't cloth of any kind, even wet cloth, help him warm up better?"

"It won't," Balin replied. "But that is not what we are laughing at, laddie." At Bilbo's confused expression Balin laughed again. "Well, this will make more sense if you have a bit more information."

"Balin," Kíli whined. "No. D-don't tell him about th-that!" Bilbo looked between Kíli's blushing face and the rest of the company's amused smirks and something Tookish awoke in him and he just _had_ to know.

"Fine," Fíli replied with a laugh seeing Bilbo's eager expression. "Then I'll tell him. When Kíli was yo-younger he went through a _phase_ where—"

"Fee, no!" Kíli pleaded. "D-don't tell him, p-p-please! It's bad e-e-enough that the rest of you know. Can't I just have _one_ m-m-member of the company that doesn't think of me as a child!?"

"Fine, Kíli," Fíli sighed. "I w-won't tell him."

"Then I will," Bofur said with a laugh. "Kíli went through a period of his life where he _refused_ to wear clothing."

"All small children do, I think," Bilbo replied in confusion. He had heard nearly all of his cousins complain that their children were wanting to run around naked. He could actually remember a party for Lobelia, one of his stuffier relatives, when his little cousin Drogo had decided that his shirt was all too encumbering and had thrown it just as the cake was brought out and had lit it on fire along with a chunk of Lobelia's hair. Drogo had been one of his favorites ever since.

"Kíli was a bit older than most children when they do such things," Bofur said still laughing.

"Dís was mortified," Balin recalled. "They would be in the middle of the market and Kíli would just . . . and then there was a naked dwarfling where a clothed princeling had been moments before. She eventually convinced him to stop. I'm not sure how she did it."

"She sewed the hem of his shirt to his pants every morning," Fíli supplied. "He c-couldn't get them off and even-eventually decided to wear them. She j-joked about doing it b-before we left for this quest so that he would not start stripping in the w-wilderness and embarrass Uncle."

"Traitor," Kíli snarled, glaring at his brother.

"Al-always, Brother Dear," Fíli replied reaching over to pull Kíli's hair playfully and stopping with a wince as he pulled his bruised ribs.

"Fíli?" Kíli said, all traces of anger gone as he batted away Glóin's hands once more and all but pounced his brother in his worry for him.

"I'm f-fine," Fíli panted, a small smile on his face as he shivered. "I just . . . there was s-something in the w-water and it hit me. It's sore but I'm fine."

"Let me see," Balin demanded moving the blanket aside and prodding the purple area none-too-gently. "Any grating or popping when you breathe?" Fíli shook his head as he hissed a breath through his teeth. "You're lucky, lad. Nothing's broken, just bruised. Maybe it'll serve as a reminder not to be so rash in the future. I think that was the most foolish thing that either of you have ever done. You're idiots, both of you."

"But we're _your_ idiots," Fíli countered with a smile. "And you l-love us j-just the way we are." Balin smirked at Fíli's certainty and bent to pull off the young heir's boot.

"Be that as it may," Balin said eventually, his harsh words ruined by the smile on his face "you're still idiots. Please don't do anything so foolish ever again. I'm not sure that my heart can take it. I _am_ getting old, you know."

"U-Uncle's older," Kíli whispered looking at Balin with sad brown eyes as Glóin wrapped him in a blanket once more to cover his nakedness.

"He is," Balin agreed. "and he was _so_ worried for the two of you. You, the two of you and your mother, you're all he has in this world. If you won't be careful for yourselves, do it for us poor old dwarves. After all, if you are lost who will we send to scout and gather wood?" Kíli looked at him incredulously at the thought that it was only the  inconvenience that their loss would cause the company that would cause Balin to miss them only to see the twinkle in the older dwarf's eyes.

Just then, Dori and Óin appeared with clean, dry clothing for the brothers. None of it was _theirs_ —as the ponies that bolted had been carrying their packs—and it fit poorly but it was at least dry. Kíli was in some of Dwalin's spare clothing due to Kíli's height, but his lack of bulk made the fabric pool around him comicallyKíli looked so much like he had as a dwarfling attempting to wear their uncle's clothing Fíli had to laugh at the sight..

"Y-you sh-should see yourself, K-Kíli," Fíli laughed. "You look so pathetic!"

"You d-don't l-look any b-better," Kíli countered, though he secretly knew that Fíli did. His brother was close to the size of many of the other dwarves and Glóin's spare clothing fit him quite well. Even so, Kíli couldn't very well _say_ so. So instead, he crawled towards Fíli and huddled against his brother under the dry blankets that someone had provided. He was still shivering moments later when he felt a warm hand come down on his shoulder. He glanced up to see his uncle looking down at him, sadness in his eyes.

"Come, Little One," Thorin whispered. "You'll never get warm that way. Neither of you has any warmth to offer the other at the moment." Unlike when Balin had tried to separate the brothers, Kíli offered no resistance when his uncle gently lifted him into his arms before moving to the other side of the fire and leaning against a log. He draped Kíli across his chest and covered them both with his coat which he had left there before moving to collect his nephew. They sat there for a moment before Kíli gave a weak, wet cough and snuggled more firmly into his uncle. Thorin felt Kíli jerk against him and knew that his nephew was about to speak even before it happened.

"You . . . your armor," Kíli whispered.

"I took it off," Thorin replied with a gentle smile. "Would have just been in the way. You'll get warm faster this way."

"But . . . what if—"

"Hush," Thorin soothed petting Kíli's head as he had when he had been small. "Your safety is more important to me than my own. More important than this quest even. Please, Kíli," Thorin sighed before he continued. " _Never_ do anything so _foolishly_ reckless again."

"I won't," Kíli promised in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry that I frightened you." Thorin said nothing in response, but his grip on his nephew tightened slightly and he bent to press his lips to Kíli's damp hair as he tried to convince himself that the boys would be fine. They had survived their own stupidity and they would be fine. _This time_ , a dark voice whispered in his mind.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli watched sadly as his uncle took his brother from him. While he was glad that Kíli was getting warm, he truly wanted his brother beside him. It had been a far closer call that day then even he wanted to admit. With a shiver he tucked his chin against his chest and wrapped his hands around his knees in an attempt to trap what heat he had. He jumped slightly when he felt the blanket pulled from his shoulders and a large body settle in behind him before the blanket was tucked back around them both.

"You looked cold, lad," Dwalin rumbled from behind him. Fíli considered denying it but before he could speak a shiver wracked his frame. Rather than deny it, he went for another reason Dwalin didn't have to be there.

"You'll get wet," he muttered holding himself a bit apart from his cousin despite the way he wanted to lean into the warmth that was being offered.

"It's not the first time," Dwalin said placing a hand on the young heir's shoulder. "And it won't be the last. Rest, lad. We both know you need it." Fíli said nothing but allowed himself to lean against his older cousin. As his muscles began to warm and loosen, Fíli felt sleep creeping into the edges of his mind. With a final force of will, he opened his eyes and looked up at his cousin. Dwalin was staring into the fire, seemingly oblivious to the frigid young dwarf stealing his body heat.

"Dwalin," Fíli whispered, offering the older dwarf a small smile when his dark eyes flicked to meet his, "thank you."

"No need to thank me, lad," the warrior replied in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Any one of us would have done the same." _But they didn't_ , Fíli thought. _You did._ Rather than say it, though, Fíli yawned.

"Sleep, lad," Dwalin repeated, tucking the blanket more tightly around them both. "Dawn comes early and your uncle won't wait." That was the last thing Fíli heard before sleep claimed him.

Dwalin knew the moment the young heir passed into dreams. He also knew that had the lad been warmed properly he would have done so sooner. Even so, it worried him. Fíli had never fallen asleep so quickly, even in his own home. His sharp mind refused to allow it. It was a mark of how close things truly had been that day that he was able to now.

As he watched Thorin fuss over Kíli he realized that he wasn't the only one that realized just how close they had come that day to losing the lads. For Thorin to show affection so openly . . . he knew. As he glanced down at the golden head lolling on his shoulder he wondered just how much closer the call would have to be to get Thorin to realize that it wasn't just Kíli who'd been in danger. Would it take more of an injury than a log to the ribs? Just how close would Fíli have to come to death to make Thorin see that he was important to the King? One glance at Fíli's sleeping face made Dwalin hope that he never found out. For Fíli's sake if nothing else. He wasn't sure that the heir would survive the kind of thing it would take to make Thorin see reason.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Their next brush with death, and test of Thorin's promise, came the very next evening. Trolls. Three of them. Hungry and intent on eating the company. And they would have succeeded too, where it not for a timely intervention by Gandalf. Even Thorin had had to admit that the old man, while insufferable and infuriating, was, at times, quite useful. Even when his idea of useful led them to Rivendell. And if it meant that for a time they had to suffer the company of elves, at least it also provided them with a clean, dry, safe place to sleep, good food to eat and good ale to drink.

And if Thorin insisted that they sleep in a group as they would in the wild rather than take advantage of the beds they were offered since he felt the need to keep his nephews in sight . . . well, let the others say what they would about his stubborn distrust of elves. It was better than them knowing the truth. While he trusted the dwarves with him with his life, there were things even they did not need to know.

Both too soon and too late for his tastes, Lord Elrond was able to read his map—the shape and day of the moon finally aligning as it needed to—and they were on their way once more. While he was glad to be underway, each step leading them closer to their final destination, he was loathe to leave the safety afforded by the valley. For while each step was a step closer to home, it was also a step closer to a dragon that might not be dead and to the Misty Mountains and the orcs housed therein.

With every step he took, Thorin prayed to the Maker for a peaceful crossing. While he would not flee from a battle, he also had no desire to come face-to-face with the orcs. He still remembered the atrocities they were capable of and their tested warriors were too few to take on a determined horde. With every step he took, he could also feel himself growing more tense. Fíli and Kíli would not fall to orcs. That much he swore. Neither orcs nor goblins would ever lay a hand on his nephews. Not while he still drew breath.

It was with this goal in mind that he diligently checked every crevice of every cave they took shelter in as they crossed the high pass. And once he was done, he had Dwalin do the same. If either of them found anything even slightly amiss, they continued on to the next shelter. It led to more than one night spent huddled against the cliff face for protection rather than in a dry cave that had been just a bit further back.

That night they'd found a safe cave, much to their relief as there was a thunder battle—something they had all believed to be myth—raging outside. Once the ponies were tethered at the back and dinner was eaten they prepared themselves for sleep. As Thorin lay down, he couldn't help but smile. There were, perhaps, two days left before they were clear of the mountains and so far there had been no sign of either orcs or goblins. As he drifted off to sleep he thought that perhaps the Maker was smiling on him. For once.

His happy dreams were shattered by a shrill scream in the middle of the night.

"No," he breathed as he sat up, sword in hand, and faced the back of the cave where a great crack had opened in the wall. "No," he repeated as he watched his company, including his nephews, bound by goblins before being herded into the tunnel under threat of the whip like livestock. He was in such shock that when he was grabbed, the fight that he put up was pathetic at best but it wouldn't have mattered. The goblins were too many and the company too few, especially as Dwalin and Glóin had been the first to be seized. No. there was nothing to do for it. They were captured. Captured and being led into the dark of Goblin Town where who knew what horrors awaited them.

As he was marched into the dark Thorin was only sure of one thing; while he drew breath Fíli and Kíli would suffer no ill treatment at the hands of the goblins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it folks. That's all of this one. I had a really strange cut point in here that on the re-read I decided I didn't like and took out. If you want things to end without much more angst and pain you can just go with the book from here on out (at least until the end) but if your game for a rollercoaster of feels that may make you swear at me, feel free to proceed to the continuation of this fic "Trust Me but Don't Thank Me Yet" if you aren't already reading it.
> 
> I greatly hope that you have enjoyed this little fic and would love to hear what you though. Once more, thank you to everyone who has added this to their favorites, follows or has taken the time to review. You really do make my day!
> 
> For the final time, thank you for taking the time to read this,  
> Stickdonkeys.


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